


Mister Fahrenheit

by lightspire



Category: Torchwood, due South
Genre: A breathtaking amount of innuendo, Case Fic, Crossover, Flirting, M/M, Museums, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:51:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21537046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightspire/pseuds/lightspire
Summary: A prize meteorite has gone missing from the Chicago Field Museum’s collection. Fraser and RayK are on the case, as is a mysterious man who calls himself Captain Jack Harkness — Captain of the SS Innuendo. Shenanigans ensue.
Relationships: Benton Fraser/Ray Kowalski, Jack Harkness/Everyone
Comments: 11
Kudos: 42





	Mister Fahrenheit

**Author's Note:**

> The story takes place:
> 
> — in Jack’s timeline: after “The Parting of the Ways” (Doctor Who 2005, s1e13) and before “Everything Changes” (Torchwood, s1e1), during the first 140 years that Jack was trapped on Earth. 
> 
> — in Fraser/RayK’s timeline: late s4, pre “Call of the Wild”.
> 
> Many thanks and grammatically-correct sparkles to Ride_Forever for beta.

  1. ** RAY**

  
“A space rock? You gotta be kidding me.” Ray folded his arms and stared at Lieutenant Welsh, a sinking feeling in his gut. 

Not again. He and Fraser had just closed weird case number Three Hundred and Eight a week ago — the one with the Extreme Surfing and Knitting Club. Ray had barely escaped being stabbed with a poisoned knitting needle while strapped to a surfboard, and Fraser had been forced to use his knot-tying skills in wildly bizarre ways.

Ray figured they were entitled to a normal (or, at least,  _ more _ normal) assignment for once. Like an assault with a deadly vegetable, or circus fraud, or something. The ‘all weird, all the time’ thing was getting old. 

“Technically it’s a meteorite,” Fraser said, his voice placid, like investigating a stolen space rock was a thing Mounties did on the daily. But who knows, maybe they did. There probably wasn’t much else going on in MuktaMooseButt. 

“Space rock, meteorite, whatever. So what?”

Welsh slid a photo of the meteorite across the desk. It looked like an ordinary rock. Brown with black scorch marks, a glossy surface, lumpy, a few holes in the side. Nothing special. Certainly nothing worth wasting Major Crimes Detective time on.

“As I understand it,” Fraser said, squinting at the photo, “it’s quite a rare specimen. It’s not especially large — I’d estimate it’s about the size of a baseball — but it reportedly has quite an unusual mineral composition.”

Fraser sounded way too excited. He really needed to get out more. Or get laid. Or both. Preferably with Ray… like that was ever gonna happen.

“The Constable is correct,” Welsh said, steepling his fingers, “and you will give this case priority, is that understood?” He didn’t break eye contact, daring Ray to challenge him.

“Yes, sir,” Ray slumped his shoulders, resigned to his fate. “But why did they throw it to Major Crimes? Sounds like a typical smash and grab.” He nearly added, “And why are you dumping it on us?” but stopped himself in the nick of time. He bit down hard on his toothpick instead. 

The Lieutenant leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk, his chair squeaking loudly as his weight shifted. “First of all, this is a request from the Director of the Field Museum. Tourism is big business here, and losing a prize artifact is bad for business.” Welsh gestured for the two of them to step closer. “But there’s more to it than that. This next part cannot leave this room, is that clear?”

Ray inched forward and Fraser took a respectful half-step towards the desk. This close to Welsh, Ray could smell the tuna salad the Lieu had eaten for lunch. It was distracting.

“When the meteorite disappeared,” Welsh said, his voice lowered, “They caught something on the CCTV.” He pushed a button on the VCR and a dark image flickered to life on the screen above it. “This was last night, in the exhibit hall where the meteorite was on display.”

A gallery, dimly lit. Silent, dark, no movement. 

“Wait for it…” Welsh said.

A blinding flash of swirling blue-violet light zigzagged through the air, accompanied by a loud whooshing noise. Then silence, and darkness.

Hair stood up on the back of Ray’s neck. “Ok, that’s queer.” He ran his hands through the spikes of his hair, trying to erase the prickly feeling.

“Indeed it is,” Fraser said, staring intently at the screen even though it had gone black.

“Whatever that flash was, it fried their systems, which means there’s no more footage until they can get it repaired. Witnesses are few: the security guard claims not to have seen anything, the Director was at a fundraiser, and no one else was around.” Welsh pushed the stop/eject button on the VCR. “Forensics wasn’t especially helpful either,” he added, tapping a stack of manilla files on his desk. “No fingerprints. Whoever took the meteorite seems to have had a key to the display case or was skilled at picking locks.”

“That’s not much to go on,” Ray said.

Welsh leaned back in his chair, which squeaked again, more of a groan this time. “Once again, your penchant for stating the obvious astounds me, Detective. Which is why the powers that be have come to us; because that’s what you get paid for — to detect.”

Ray scowled and bit his toothpick so hard it snapped. He took it out of his mouth and tossed it into the trash can before it had a chance to stab him. The last thing he needed was a splinter in his tongue.

Welsh handed them the VHS tape and files. “Keep this on the down-low for now, but let me know when you find anything. I don’t want the Director breathing down my neck,” he said, and waved them out the door.

“Hey, Ray!” Huey and Dewey called from across the bullpen.

“What.”

Huey held up a little green plastic alien and waved it in the air. “Area 51 called. They want your booty back.”

Dewey burst into laughter as Ray flipped them the bird.

***

  1. **JACK**

“Chicago PD! Hands where I can see ‘em!”

Jack’s arm jerked and the lock pick in his hand slipped, slicing the tip of his finger. A jolt of pain seared through his hand. He hissed, but the sting lasted only a second before the wound closed again, healed, leaving no trace. 

Jack raised his hands, letting the pick slide down inside his sleeve, the metal cold and sharp against the skin of his arm. He turned around slowly, away from the laboratory cabinet he had been trying to break into, and faced his accuser. 

And damn — the guy was hot. Sex-on-a-stick hot. Spiky bleached-blond hair, intense pale blue eyes, a taut and wiry body like a greyhound’s, a snarl on his lips. He was dressed in a tight gray T-shirt that showed off his pecs, black trousers that showed off his long legs and whipcord-thin frame, a black leather holster with a shiny cop’s badge on it, and oh, right — the gun. Pointed squarely at Jack’s chest.

Another man, this one in fire-engine red — what the hell, a Mountie? — hovered next to blondie. He was tall, dark-haired, square-jawed, and ridiculously handsome. He even had the Smokey Bear hat, ramrod-straight posture, knee-high boots with matching leathers, the works. 

This was Jack’s lucky night.

“Well, hello there,” Jack said, grinning. “I’m Captain Jack Harkness. And who might you be?”

“Hands on your head,” the man with the gun growled, “and stop flirting.”

“Can’t a guy just say hello?” Jack arched an eyebrow but complied, carefully placing his hands behind his head so as not to mess up his hair. “What seems to be the problem, Officer...?”

“Vecchio. Detective Ray Vecchio.”

Hmm. The man didn’t look Italian. But what did Jack know — he could barely tell human from alien at first glance, let alone Italian from Polish or whatever. But still... 

“Nice to meet you. And who’s your handsome friend?”

“I’m Starsky. He’s Hutch,” Ray said, jerking his head sideways towards the Mountie but never taking his eyes off Jack. “You need to tell us what you’re doing in the lab. Nobody’s supposed to be in the museum this time of night.”

So. They were partners. Question was, what kind? And should Jack be expecting disappointment or angling for a threesome? Finding out could be lots of fun, provided he could weasel his way out of this. 

“There’s no need for the gun,” Jack soothed. 

Which was more or less true. He was unarmed except for the well-hidden Compact Laser Deluxe he always carried. He’d locked his sonic blaster back in his hotel room safe. Which meant that, in theory, Jack was a threat only to their virtue unless they decided to get scrappy with him. 

“I’d be happy to answer your questions, Detective,” he said sweetly.

Ray didn’t budge. “How’d you get in here?” His eyes narrowed, flashing steel, and his voice was gruff, threatening.

Ok, so Ray was a tough-guy — or pretended to be. Jack knew exactly how to deal with guys like him.

“I never have a problem getting in,” Jack winked.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

The Mountie leaned towards Ray and said into his ear, “I believe that was a double entendre, Ray.”

“A double what?”

“A double meaning. In this case referring to both the apparent fact that he is quite capable of breaking and entering, and to his prowess at seduction.”

“Right on one count,” Jack said to the Mountie, smiling. “I didn’t break and enter. I work here. There’s ID in my pocket, if I might...?”

“Don’t move,” Ray hissed. “Fraser, go get it.”

Jack smirked. The old, “Let me get my ID, no I’ll get it for you,” routine. Worked every time.

The Mountie, evidently named Fraser, approached Jack slowly, cautious. “Which pocket, Captain?”

“In my trousers. Right front.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Take your time, officer ...?”

“Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police.” He reached for Jack’s pocket. 

Jack wiggled his hips a little so Fraser could get his fingers in there, nice and tight. He had big hands, square to match his jaw. Jack wondered what those hands could do, given the right circumstances. 

“What’s a Mountie doing in Chicago?” Jack asked, raking Fraser with his eyes while the man was preoccupied. Broad chest, clean as a whistle, excellent bottom. He’d been groped by far worse.

“I first came to Chicago on the trail of the killers of my father,” Fraser said as he dipped tentatively into Jack’s pocket, “and for reasons that don’t need exploring at this juncture, I have remained as liaison attached to the Canadian Consulate.” 

Fraser’s hands were still several inches away from the wallet, which had slid to the very bottom of Jack’s pocket. 

“You’ll have to go deeper than that, Constable, if you want to get what you came for.”

Fraser glanced up at Jack, eyebrow raised. 

“Don’t worry, I can take it,” Jack assured him.

Fraser blushed and cracked his jaw. 

Jack almost laughed out loud at that, but he was too distracted by what Fraser’s hands were doing. Fraser’s skin was warm against the fabric as he thrust his hand firmly down into the pocket, deep enough to reach the wallet. Not for the first time, Jack was grateful for the generous pleats in his trousers that ensured there was plenty of room down there for those times when things got interesting. Like now.

After several delicious seconds, Fraser pulled a large leather wallet free and flipped it open to examine the ID. 

“Long way from home, aren’t you?” Jack asked.

Fraser paused and tilted his head to one side, giving Jack a good look at his face. Full, kissable lips, the slightest hint of uneven dark stubble, stunning blue eyes. Lovely. 

“Yes, sir. As, apparently, are you,” Fraser said.

How could he possibly know that? Was being a refugee from another planet and a vastly different time that obvious? Oh, right. The ID.

“You’re a British citizen,” Fraser answered Jack’s unasked question, “but you sound as though you’re from the Midwestern United States.” 

“It’s a long story. Can I put my hands down now? I’m getting a cramp.”

Fraser turned to Ray and nodded. “His identification appears valid. There’s a passport and a key card that says he’s a researcher from Amgueddfa Cymru.”

Jack blinked. That was impressive. Not many people could get a Welsh accent right on the first try.

“What the hell did you just say, Fraser?” Ray asked. “It sounded like you ate a live octopus there.”

“The National Museum of Wales in Cardiff.”

Ray lowered his weapon. “Ok. But don’t try anything funny.” 

“Wouldn't dream of it.” Jack watched Ray’s long slender fingers as they flicked on the safety and slid the gun into its sheath with practiced smoothness. The man clearly knew how to handle his piece.

Jack lowered his hands and discreetly slipped the lock pick into his pocket. His ID had passed, for now. Torchwood was excellent at manufacturing fake credentials, if it wasn’t especially good at much else these days — other than hubris, of which there was always plenty to go around.

“You don’t look like a scientist,” Ray said.

“You don’t look Italian,” Jack countered. 

Ray’s microsecond flinch gave him away before he pulled it together, the tough-guy mask falling back into place. Bingo. It was proof enough to suggest that Vecchio, like Jack, might not be exactly what he seemed. Perhaps Ray had taken another man’s name; maybe he was even worthy of it. Whether Jack was worthy of his own stolen identity remained to be seen — he suspected he’d spend the rest of eternity trying to earn the right to it.

Fraser handed Jack’s wallet back to him, and Jack made a point of brushing Fraser’s fingers as he accepted it. Fraser’s eyes flickered to Jack’s face, pupils dilating for a fraction of a second, but it was hard to tell what Fraser was thinking behind his carefully schooled expression. Attraction, maybe? Or something else.

“Love the outfit,” Jack said, “never could resist a man in uniform. But with those pants, I can’t tell if there’s a gun in your pocket or you’re happy to see me, which I find very disappointing. Care to clear up my confusion?”

“I don’t carry a firearm.”

Jack let out a short bark of laughter. Fraser’s response was unexpected: cheeky, to say the least. He had to be teasing Jack, because no one on Earth — or any planet for that matter — could be that naive. Jack was liking this guy more and more.

“Jesus, Fraser,” Ray said, shouldering his partner aside, barging into Jack’s personal space. He was still suspicious and clearly protective of Fraser. Interesting.

“Seriously. Why are you here?” Ray demanded, his body tense. Twitchy. Dangerous.

Jack always did like a little danger. “I might ask you the same question,” he said as he slid his hand down to his hip and rested it there. Ray’s eyes followed, as he’d hoped. 

Ray swallowed, then raised his chin to meet Jack’s gaze. “You first.”

“I was finishing up some research and lost track of time.” Jack gestured casually to the desk behind him, trusting that the jumble of books and papers left by the employee who actually worked there was messy enough not to invite closer inspection. “You know how it is.”

Ray glanced at the desk and nodded, seemingly satisfied.

“And you?” Jack asked, “What brings you gentlemen to this fine cultural establishment so late at night?”

“We’re investigating a missing museum piece,” Fraser said. “You may have heard of it — the Dolgellau meteorite.”

Jack nodded. “Oh, I know about it all right. I came here hoping to study it, but some miscreant threw a spanner in my plans.” 

Truth be told, he had come to Chicago to acquire the meteorite by any means necessary, legal or otherwise. Torchwood was convinced it was a fragment of alien tech and couldn’t be left in civilian hands. They had gone so far as to provide him with a lookalike duplicate that he was supposed to use to replace the real thing, Indiana Jones style. By unlucky coincidence, the thief had beaten him to it by a day. 

This evening, Jack was doing some investigating of his own, searching for clues to where the meteorite had gone, and who — or what — had taken it. The scanner on his wrist cuff had picked up a faint energy residue, but the meteorite wasn’t in the building.

“You some kind of expert on space rocks?” Ray asked, perching his fingertips on his own hips. Jack followed the movement of Ray’s hands, then looked back to Ray’s face, which bore a satisfied smugness. Aha. Two could play this game.

“You could say I’m a bit of an authority on heavenly bodies,” Jack said, his gaze taking in both Fraser and Ray. 

Ray rolled his eyes at the cheesy line, barely suppressing a groan. 

“And I’m especially interested in objects that can penetrate deep space,” Jack added with a leer. 

Fraser went rigid. But not like that, unfortunately. Even so, the flustered look suited the Mountie. Jack chuckled inwardly at the effect he was having on the two of them.

“Yes, well…” Fraser coughed and stroked an eyebrow. A nervous gesture. “Have you seen any unusual activity or unauthorized persons in the last few days?” He rubbed his eyebrow again. 

Fascinating. He had a tell. Getting him to play poker — preferably strip poker — could prove quite revealing.

“Sorry. I only got here this morning. Just my luck — the meteorite went missing while I was over the Atlantic. The strangest thing I saw today was a guy in a gorilla suit riding a unicycle down Lake Shore Drive.” 

Jack didn’t tell them that the most bizarre thing he’d actually seen in the last twenty-four hours, in the loo at Gatwick, was a man with green scales on his chest and tentacles instead of the typical meat and two veg. They didn’t need to know that. Or how Jack knew that, either.

“You understand we’ll need to verify your alibi, Captain,” Fraser said, and Ray nodded in agreement.

“Of course.”

“Don’t leave town until we’ve cleared you, got it?” Ray shot Jack a dirty look that tried to be threatening but came off as more of a smolder. “In case we got more questions.” He handed Jack a business card. “Call if you see anything.”

Jack grabbed a pen and a scrap of paper from the desk. He wrote his contact information and the name of the hotel where he was staying, and handed it to Ray with a toothy smile. 

“Here’s my room number. Come anytime,” he said, winking at them.

The crimson flush that spread over Fraser’s cheeks matched his uniform perfectly. 

***

  1. ** RAY**

“Oh my god,” Ray barked, his whole body taut and shaking as he stormed back to the Goat, Fraser at his heels. He hadn’t been this wound up in maybe, like, ever. His body buzzed with anger, his gut burned with jealousy. Even his dick had  _ ideas _ and really needed to shut the hell up.

Fraser nodded. “The Captain was rather flirtatious.”

“Flirtatious, hah! Is that Canadian for perv? ‘Cause that guy needs a leash and a muzzle.”

Fraser smirked. “Although I believe in his case, he might actually enjoy that.”

Ray stopped dead in his tracks and stared at Fraser. He pretended to be so innocent all the time and then, BAM, stuff like this would come out of his mouth. 

“Didn’t know you were capable of gutter talk, Frase.”

“Sometimes I surprise even myself, Ray.” They reached the car and Fraser climbed into the passenger seat.

Ray shook his head and popped a stick of gum into his mouth before sliding behind the wheel. He needed something to ease the tension, a distraction. He closed his eyes tight, ground the gum between his molars, and focused on the burn of the mint flavor as it burst across his tongue. 

“Did you see what he was wearing?” Ray revved the engine to life, stepped on the gas, merged into traffic. “He had on a belt  _ and _ suspenders! Like he can’t even keep his pants on without extra reinforcements.” 

Fraser chuckled. “That’s very observant of you. I, for one, was curious about the World War II greatcoat and the unusual leather cuff he wore on his wrist.”

Ray enjoyed the compliment, but wasn’t at all sure how he felt about Fraser paying that much attention to Jack. Scratch that— he didn’t like it, not one bit.

“I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him. He doesn’t smell right.”

“I didn’t notice anything especially malodorous about him, though his pheromones were excessive enough that I found them… distracting.”

“Phero whats?” Ray said, flipping on the blinker and switching lanes.

Fraser tugged his left ear. “Airborne behavior-altering chemicals, emitted from pores or glands in the skin.”

“What do you mean, behavior-altering?”

“Pheromones serve many purposes: to attract a sexual partner, to help a mother bond with her baby, or to raise an alarm, and so forth. It depends on the species. In Jack’s case...”

“What?” Ray demanded, pulling the GTO to a stop in the 2-7 lot. 

Fraser cracked his jaw. “In Jack’s case, the pheromones definitely seemed to be sexual in nature.”

Christ on a cracker. “Like, the guy puts out some kind of sex gas?” Maybe that’s why Ray felt so edgy. And maybe, damn it, why Fraser had seemed so interested in him. “I thought it was just his aftershave.”

Fraser regarded Ray, intrigued. “So you smelled it too. Interesting. Most people’s pheromones aren’t especially noticeable. Usually we’re only aware of them on a subconscious level, experienced as what you might call chemistry. But Jack’s were, as I said, unusual.”

Ray clenched his jaw. Great. Not only was Jack a horny lech, his phero-things were making other people feel that way too. Greatness. 

“When I said he didn’t smell right, I didn’t mean literally. I meant I got a hunch that he’s lying through his teeth about what he’s doing here and who he is. I can’t wait to get back to my desk so we can run a check on him.” Sex gas be damned.

***

  1. **JACK**

Back at the museum, Jack turned off his wrist scanner and scowled. Nothing. Whatever had been here, and wherever the meteorite had gone, it wasn’t here now. He rubbed his forehead, barely able to keep his eyes open. It must be 4 a.m. in the UK. Time to head back to the hotel, get a few hours sleep, and start again fresh in the morning.

He left the building, kicking the door shut behind him, careful not to leave fingerprints on the handle.

After Jack had left the darkened laboratory, the back exit door clicked quietly open, its fire alarm silenced by a key in the lock. 

“It’s safe now, you can go,” a voice said.

In the darkness, a glowing blue-violet light flickered, stirred the papers in the room in a gentle flutter of wind, then vanished.

***

  1. ** RAY**

“All this trouble over a space rock. I can’t believe my job has come to this.” Ray leaned over Fraser’s shoulder to get a better view of the computer screen, his face inches from Fraser’s neck. Out of curiosity, he took a deep sniff. Nice. Fraser-smell. Wool, leather, soap and skin. If there was any sex gas coming off Fraser, he couldn’t tell.

Fraser turned his head towards Ray, an eyebrow raised.

Busted. “Find anything?” Ray asked, covering his tracks.

“It would appear that his alibi checks out.” Fraser pointed to the screen, which displayed a copy of Jack’s official flight record. “He was on a plane when the meteorite disappeared, and therefore cannot be our thief. That doesn’t rule out complicity, but there’s no evidence to suggest that he’s lying about the theft.”

“He’s lying about something. I can feel it.”

Fraser nodded, then entered a string of search terms, his fingers flying across the keyboard. He clicked through page after page of entries stamped “Eyes Only,” “Classified,” and “Top Secret,” most of which were redacted. After a few minutes he paused on one image and stared intently at it. 

It was a black and white photograph, so old it had faded to soft sepia tones. In the photograph was a group of British WWII officers, women and men, taken sometime in the 1940s. 

“Is that Jack?” Ray tapped the glass. “Can’t be. He’s not that old.”

“Possibly his father…” Fraser’s voice trailed off. He squinted at the photograph then sat back in the chair, a look of concern on his face.

“Oh, dear.”   


“What?” If Fraser was worried, it had to be bad. “Fraser, what is it?”

“I’ve seen this before. That symbol,” he pointed. In the background of the photo, on the front of a wooden filing cabinet, was a barely visible logo: a “T” inside a honeycomb shape.

“Where? What’s it mean?”

“Many years ago, during my first posting after Depot, I was tracking a poacher miles from a remote outpost in the Northwest Territories, in a blizzard. It was dark, dangerously cold, and I was desperately seeking shelter when I stumbled across… well. Something. At the time I thought I was hallucinating from the subzero temperatures, and exhaustion, but now I’m not so sure.”

“So what the hell is it? What are we dealing with?”

“I have reason to believe that this —” he pointed to the photograph, “is some kind of black ops agency, possibly part of the UN. And it’s far, far above my pay grade. Above everyone’s pay grade, I suspect.”

Ray whistled. Cripes. “You sure Frase? We could be in over our heads here.”

“Indeed we could. I’d like a word with the Captain before we proceed any further.”

“Yeah.” But not now. Ray’s lower back ached, he was thirsty, hungry, and needed a few hours of shut-eye. “In the morning. I’m beat.” He took his glasses off, tucked them into the collar of his shirt, and rubbed his eyes.

Fraser turned off the computer. “Agreed.”

Ray grabbed his jacket, shucked it on, then a thought struck him as he reached for Fraser’s hat.

“Should I requisition a couple gas masks?”

“Why would we need to do that?”

“Those pheromone thingies. What if they're dangerous? Make you do things?”  _ What if they make you horny and distracted for a guy who isn’t me? _

Fraser actually laughed. “Are you suggesting that we’ll be unable to resist the Captain’s charms?”

“You tell me.”

Fraser lowered his eyebrows and said in his most formal Mountie voice, “I shall endeavor to be a consummate professional when dealing with our unusual visitor.”

“I will if you will.” Ray held the hat out for Fraser, who stood up and took it. “But stick close. Yours are the only pheromones I wanna smell.”

Fraser tugged at his collar and cracked his jaw. “As you wish, Ray. But I fear Jack might be rubbing off on you a little.”

“Not if I can help it. The only person I want rubbing off on me is you.”

Fraser froze, mouth open. 

Oh shit. He had not just said that— he had  _ not _ . Ray felt his cheeks blaze and his mind went blank — there was nothing he could say to undo that. Nothing. So he did the only thing he could think of — he bolted for the washroom, the image of Fraser’s dropped jaw seared into his retinas. He turned on the faucet, splashed cold water on his face, felt goosebumps rise on his neck. He cupped his hands, sucked in gulps of water from the hollows of his palms. Fuck. Fraser was right. Jack had gotten into his head, under his skin, and who knows where else… 

Who the hell was this guy, and what had they gotten themselves into?

***

  1. **JACK**

Jack stepped out of the shower, emerging in a cloud of steam and dripping wet, to the sound of someone banging on his hotel suite door.  Damn it. 

He’d expected Ray and Fraser to search him out, just not so soon. He’d wanted to take another run at finding the meteorite before his cover was blown, but had gotten back to the hotel late and had fallen asleep, still on UK time and overwhelmed by jet lag. Unfortunately, he’d overslept by several hours. That string of bad luck seemed to be following him.

Jack wrapped himself in a fluffy white dressing gown and scrubbed a towel over his hair. Too bad the officers hadn’t come a few minutes earlier. That could have been fun.

“We know you’re in there, Jack, open up!” It was Ray, his voice muffled by the door and by the insistent pounding of his fist. They were eager to get to him — which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. 

“Hold your horses!” Jack called out. He slung the towel around his neck, smoothed his damp hair with his fingers, and took a quick glance in the mirror before reaching for the door handle.

“Hello, Handsomes,” he said brightly as he flung the door open. Ray’s hand froze in the air, mid-knock. “I’m afraid you’ve caught me naked.” Jack smirked at the mix of expressions that raced across Ray’s face: surprise, exasperation, a hint of heat. It was delightful to watch. “What can I do for you — and should I get dressed,” he said with a gleam in his eye, “or should I not bother?”

“We’ve got questions.” Ray stepped forward to block the doorway and glared through his glasses. “If that really is your name. Or should I call you Captain? Unless that’s a lie too.”

Jack noticed for the first time that Ray’s blue-green eyes were flecked with bits of gold, with hints of laugh lines at the corners. Beautiful. He lowered his voice to a soft purr. “With eyes like yours, you could call me Naomi and I wouldn’t object.” 

“Ok,  _ Naomi _ ,” Ray snarked, “you’re not going anywhere until we get some answers.”

Oh well, it was worth a try.

“I’m afraid he’s correct, sir,” Fraser said, putting his hands behind his back and standing stiffly at parade rest. “If you’d be so kind as to answer a few questions, we could avoid the necessity of taking you down to the precinct.”

Jack sighed. “Very well. Come in.” He flopped down on the sofa as nonchalantly as possible. “Make yourselves at home.” He gestured to the two chairs that flanked a small round table, where a coffee pot, mugs, fruit, and pastries were laid out. “Coffee?” He held up the carafe. “I just made it. I guarantee it’s better than what you get at the station.” But, sadly, not as good as the elixir he used to be able to get Out There. He really missed having a ship of his own, and he would give almost anything for a cup of real raktajino...

Ray shook his head no and continued to stand, defying the invitation, holding on to his position of power. Fraser stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, an apologetic look on his face. Well. That was how it was going to be, was it? Good Mountie, bad Cop. Jack had been through that routine a thousand times in a thousand different ways. He could handle this. 

Jack shrugged and poured himself a cup of fragrant dark liquid, then set the carafe down. He picked up a bagel, smeared it with cream cheese, and took a bite.

“What’s your deal?” Ray circled the small room like a cat. At one point he tripped on the carpet, recovered quickly, then turned to Jack, interrogating him as though nothing had happened. Hah. Sexy and clumsy in one wiry package. Adorable. “Who are you, really?”

Jack took his time answering. He sipped his coffee, savoring the bitter taste, then set the empty mug on a coaster. 

“I told you. Captain Jack Harkness, Royal Air Force.” He polished off the bagel, licked a stray bit of cream cheese from his fingers. “Guest researcher.” He plucked a ripe banana from the plate of fruit, snapped the stem, and peeled it slowly, holding eye contact with Ray the entire time. “Expert on the non-terrestrial.” He ate the banana in one deep bite, feeling the creamy fruit slide down his throat. He swallowed and arched an eyebrow. “And possibly the answer to your wildest dreams. What more could you want?”

Ray didn’t take the bait, and didn’t back down either. If anything, Jack’s unruffled attitude was making him even more agitated. 

“I will ask you again,” Ray said, leaning forward and resting his palms on the table. “What the hell are you really doing here?”

Jack held Ray’s gaze, steady. The more restless Ray got, the calmer Jack made his own movements. Weight, counterweight. That’s how this game worked, and Jack was very, very good at it. 

“That’s classified.” He pulled a black plastic comb out of the pocket of his gown and ran it through his hair.

“Classify this — ” Ray stood up, his hands curling into fists.

“Ray,” Fraser interrupted, “perhaps the Captain is being honest with us.”

“He’s lying, Fraser. I can smell a con job a mile off.” 

A con-job, eh Ray? Takes one to know one. Jack tucked the comb into his pocket and leaned on the sofa, one arm resting along the back. “If I told you any more than that, I’d have to kill you.”

Ray jerked backwards, his eyes narrowed. “You’re bluffing.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“You ain’t James Bond.”

“True enough. I prefer my martinis  _ dirty _ ,” Jack said, licking his lips. Actually, a hypervodka wouldn’t go amiss right about now, but it was a bit early in the morning...

“You’re testing my patience, wiseass.”

“You wouldn’t believe the truth even if I told you.”

“Try me.” 

And oh, yes, Jack definitely wanted to try Ray, in so many ways. But he wasn’t quite ready to end their verbal sparring match. The dance they were doing was still too much fun. Risky, but fun.

“If I do tell you, you’ll probably have me committed, and I have no intention of doing  _ that _ again. Being locked up in a mental ward isn’t my idea of a good time. Although, there was that one night with the nurse and the orderly…”

“Quit stalling.” Ray shifted his weight from one foot to the other, a bundle of taut nerves and muscles. 

Jack cocked an eyebrow. “Getting tired already, Detective? I’d pegged you as a man with more stamina.”

Ray folded his arms and jutted his chin out. “I can keep this up all day.”

“Can you now…?” Jack said, glancing at Ray’s crotch, then back to his face, gaze heated.

The tips of Ray’s ears turned pink. It was cute on him.

“Yeah,” Ray said, pretending to be unfazed. “I can keep it up all day. And all night, too. How long have you got?”

Jack was sorely tempted to say, “Ten inches,” but decided against it. “Eternity,” he said, after a pause. That caught Ray off guard. Stalemate. “Well, now, it seems we’ve established that you have the time...” Jack traced the edge of his bathrobe with his hand and spread his legs apart a little. “But do you have the energy?” He shot Ray a shit-eating grin. 

Ray shook his head. “Hardy ha ha. Think you’re a comedian, do you? You think you’re so cute...”

“Yes, I do,” Jack smiled again, showing off his dimples, “don’t you?” 

“I think you’re about to get a kick in the head. Now start talking.”

“Are you going to  _ make _ me, Detective?” Jack knew he was testing Ray’s limits, and wondered how far he could push before that tightly wound energy was released in the form of a fist to Jack’s jaw.

“I’m about to  _ make _ you,” Ray threatened, “and I guarantee you won’t like the way I do it.” 

Jack could tell he meant it. He was close to the red line.

“That’s police brutality. And no fun besides,” Jack pouted. 

“I’ll show you fun,” Ray said, pushing up his sleeves and taking a threatening posture. “It’s all aboard for fun-time, Captain Naomi.” Ray was vibrating with energy, looking for any excuse to turn violent. A can of gasoline waiting for a match.

“Ray —” Fraser said, his voice stern. A warning.

So — there it was — Ray’s line. He was right on the razor’s edge and Fraser knew it. Jack suspected that if Fraser hadn’t been in the room, they’d be having a much more physical conversation. At least Jack understood where that line was, now. Best to know thy enemy. Or thy future lover — same difference, sometimes. 

“I’ve already told you who I am,” Jack said, and locked eyes with Ray. “What you choose to do with that information is up to you.”

“Suit yourself,” Ray scowled. “If that’s the way you want to play, fine. You’ve got ten seconds to change your mind. Nine, eight...”

“Has anyone told you how sexy you are when considering violence?”

Fraser actually squeaked. When Jack glanced his way, Fraser quickly covered up the sound with a cough.

“If you think that’s hot,” Ray said, balling his fists and dropping into a boxer’s crouch, “get ready to meet The Sexiest Man Alive. Seven, six...”

“Okay, okay — ” Jack held his hands up in a placating gesture. There was no point in getting hit or locked up if he could avoid it. “We’ll do it your way.” 

It was decision time. Should he tell them the truth, then Retcon them if necessary? Or hit them with a bald-faced lie? Ray was stubborn and Fraser was smart. They weren’t going to let this go easily, so it was probably best to try to get them on his side. Besides, they were both utter l y  shaggable , and after his little mission was completed, anything could happen.

“Are you sure you won’t sit?” Jack gestured towards the chairs. “You might want to get comfy, because I’m about to blow you…” 

Ray’s whole body stiffened.

“...r minds,” Jack finished.

Ray shook his head and whipped out a notepad and pen. 

“Ray, you can’t write any of this down,” Jack said. “I meant it — this information is classified.”

Ray stared at him, then grudgingly put away his pen and paper. “We’re listening,” he said, serious.

“I’ve been hired to find the meteorite.” Jack held up his hands like he was holding an imaginary baseball. “Little thing. About yea big.”

“Why?” Fraser asked.

“We think it might contain something dangerous. Possibly of alien origin.”

Ray goggled. “What, like X-Files stuff? And who’s ‘We’?”

“Yes. Alien technology,” Jack nodded, ignoring the second question.

“Wouldn’t proof of alien intelligence be all over the headlines?” Fraser asked. “That would be the most remarkable find in all of human history, if it were true.”

Oh, these sweet summer children. If only they knew.

“What, and terrify the planet?” Jack gestured towards the hotel window and the sprawling city beyond. “You know as well as I do that people are herd animals — superstitious and easily panicked. Some things are best kept secret, don’t you agree?”

“But the scientific value…” Fraser began.

“Forget the scientific value,” Ray interrupted, “if there’s aliens involved, count me out. No alien is abducting my ass. Not again.”

“Don’t worry, Ray,” Jack said, “aliens performing anal probes on humans is a myth — ” his lips curled into a smile — “unless you ask very, very nicely. As for science, people with bigger brains than ours are going to study this thing, believe me. But there are some very bad people out there who would love to get their mitts on it. Can you imagine how dangerous alien technology could be if it fell into the wrong hands?”

“How do we know you’re one of the good guys?” Ray glared at him. “You still haven’t said who you work for.”

“Trust me, I’m on your side,” he said in his most sincere voice. “My job, like yours, is to help keep the world safe so kids can sleep at night.”

“You sound like him,” Ray jerked his thumb towards Fraser. 

Fraser nodded once, acknowledging their shared — well, mostly shared — goals. Having Fraser on his side was important, so that was a good start.

“I’m still not buying it,” Ray sliced the air with his hands, his long elegant fingers formed into threatening spikes.

“What do I need to do to convince you?”

“You could try telling us the truth to the extent that you can,” Fraser said quietly. “We know you aren’t what you claim to be.” Fraser handed him a copy of an old photograph with him in it, the Torchwood logo visible in the background. “You could reassure us with some facts.”

Jack paused.

“The name Torchwood mean anything to you?” Ray challenged.

Jack put on his poker face a second too late.

“I knew it,” Ray said, triumphant. “Now spill.”

“You can’t unhear what I’m about to tell you. But if you’re sure…”

Fraser nodded. “Please.”

Jack sat up straight, took a deep breath, and decided to let slip a tiny piece of the truth. “I work for an agency called Torchwood. Our job is to help keep the planet safe from aliens and their technology. I’m here undercover to get the meteorite back from whoever stole it.” He left out the ‘Stranded Time-Agent-turned-con-artist from the fifty-first century who also happens to be immortal’ parts. 

Ray threw his hands up, exasperated. “You are unhinged. Useless.”

“Told you you’d think that,” Jack said. “You were warned.”

“You did indeed warn us,” Fraser agreed, “but you must admit that the story you tell is quite fantastic. And we do have some experience with pathological liars.”

“Either that or you’re a wise guy,” Ray jabbed a finger at Jack’s chest. “Which is it?”

“I’ll leave that for you to decide,” Jack said. “Whether you believe me or not, none of this is relevant to the missing meteorite, which we should be out looking for instead of arguing. The longer we wait the less chance we have of finding it.”

“The Captain has a point,” Fraser said. “Perhaps we should pool our resources.”

“You can’t be serious, Fraser. Star Trek stuff? Super-secret agencies nobody's ever heard of?”

“There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Ray, than are dreamt of in your philosophy,” Fraser patted his friend’s shoulder. 

Ray snorted. “So you keep saying. But tell me this — let’s say we do find this rock? Then what?”

“You bring up a valid point. I am unsure of jurisdiction in this matter.” Fraser tugged an earlobe. “We should inform Lieutenant Welsh and Inspector Thatcher.”

“No, no, don’t do that,” Jack jumped up and clasped Fraser’s arm. “No one else can know. It’s bad enough that you two know who I am. Anyway, my jurisdiction is broader than yours.”

“How much broader?” Ray squinted his eyes and stared at Jack, as though he might be able to see right through him.

Jack waved a hand casually, taking in the room, the window, everything. “Earth. More or less. Sometimes more.”

Ray scoffed. “You’re full of it.”

“I assure you, I’m not. There are plenty of times when I wish I were. Besides, I only brought so much Retcon with me.” 

“Ret what?” Ray asked.

Oops. He hadn’t meant to say that last part out loud.

“Never mind. Show you later. Promise,” Jack said, a little ruefully. He wasn’t looking forward to erasing these guys’ memories. Too bad for them. They deserved to remember Jack and the joy he was most certainly going to give them. “Fraser’s right,” Jack hurried on, before either of them could object. “We should work together. Once we’ve recovered the meteorite, we can discuss what to do with it.”

“I don’t trust him,” Ray looked to Fraser and shook his head. “Why don’t we just arrest him?”

Jack glanced at the handcuffs clipped to Ray’s belt and arched an eyebrow. “Anything involving cuffs, I’m going to need a safe word.”

“On what charge, Ray?” Fraser asked.

“Propositioning an officer. Impersonating a researcher. Withholding evidence.”

“Last time I checked, flirting wasn’t illegal,” Jack said, his voice all innocence. “And I am actually a researcher, of sorts. The only impersonations I do are Gene Kelly and Bogart.” And Captain Jack Harkness, RAF, of course, but nobody needed to know that. “As for evidence, I haven’t got any to withhold. Maybe together we can find some.”

Fraser rested his hand on Ray’s shoulder. “The Captain appears to be an ally.”

“I don’t like it.”

“I don’t either, Ray, but he’s the only lead we’ve got. I think we should continue the investigation and see how it plays out.”

Jack watched this exchange, fascinated. The interaction between the two men was something to behold. The intensity, the sexual tension sizzling just below the surface, the obvious affection they had for each other — Jack desperately wanted to play with that, poke it with a stick and see what happened.

Ray opened his mouth to say something, then scowled and sighed. “You win, Fraser. But if this guy puts a foot out of line, we’re done. You got that?”

Fraser nodded. Jack smiled. This was going better than expected.

“Let me get dressed, then we can go back to the museum,” Jack said, untying his dressing gown. “You can watch, if you want,” he added, grinning.

“Seriously? Don’t you ever quit?” Ray shook his head and turned sideways, facing away. 

“I keep trying to give it up, but it’s  _ hard _ ,” Jack replied, deadpan, “… so hard.”

Fraser, surprisingly, didn’t look away. Well, then... 

“And what about you, Constable?” Jack raised an eyebrow. “Like to watch, do you?”

Fraser averted his gaze, but didn’t turn around. “I believe it prudent for one of us to keep tabs on you.”

“I knew it,” Jack said, a note of glee in his voice. “You can’t take your eyes off me.” He heard Ray’s loud, mocking huff as he tossed the bathrobe onto the bed. “For what it’s worth, the feeling’s mutual.” 

Jack pulled on a clean pair of briefs, then his trousers, and zipped up the fly. Then he put on a white undershirt, followed by a blue tab-collar shirt with white buttons, brown leather belt and holster, braces, socks. 

On a whim, feeling slightly daring and definitely stupid, he decided to poke the Fraser-Ray hornet’s nest.

“Oh, Constable?”

“Are you decent?” Fraser asked.

“Rarely. But I am mostly dressed.” Jack knelt down to tie his bootlaces.

Fraser put a hand over his eyes and peeked cautiously through his fingers. Jack’s stomach did a flip-flop at the mix of innocence and naughtiness contained in that gesture. He crooked his index finger and called Fraser over. 

“What is it, Captain?” Fraser stepped closer.

Jack stood up, leaned towards Fraser and lowered his voice, but kept it loud enough for Ray to hear. “You know something, Benton? I just made you come with one finger. Imagine what I could do with three.”

It was almost worth getting hit to see the look of pure jealousy on Ray's face as the detective lunged forward, his fist connecting with Jack’s jaw.

“Whoa! That’s quite a punch you’ve got,” Jack gasped between gales of laughter. He rubbed his aching mouth and picked himself off the floor. “You two are adorable. And that was too easy. I’m supposed to be the easy one.” He kept chuckling while Fraser held Ray back, saying something about the necessity of avoiding an international incident. 

Jack stuffed a few things into his pockets and strapped the vortex manipulator to his wrist. It still worked as a scanner, even if it was useless now for time travel. He grabbed his coat, swirled it around his shoulders, and smiled as he led them out the door to the elevators. 

“Shall we all go down together, or would you rather take turns?” He laughed again at his own recklessness. 

Jack couldn’t seem to stop himself from trying to provoke Ray. His inability to get a rise out of Fraser only made him want to try harder. It might even be that Fraser was straight and that’s why he didn’t respond to Jack’s overtures, though Jack seriously doubted it. Besides, that had rarely stopped him from getting what he wanted — he had that effect on people. Heck, he had that effect on whole species.

These two brought out the worst flirt in him. Maybe it was the energy around them, the electric hum of lust that crackled between them, and that they seemed totally oblivious to it. It drew him in like a moth to a bug zapper. He felt compelled to harness that passion — needed to ride it, to ride them, if he could. He was determined to unleash it, one way or another.

But first things first. They had a job to do

When they reached the lobby, Jack ushered them politely to the door before Fraser could beat him to it. He watched them go through at the same time — the concept of personal space being unfamiliar to them, evidently — even as he brushed off the Mountie’s muttered “Thank you kindly” and Ray’s growls. 

“Let’s go catch ourselves a thief,” Jack said, smiling. And out they went, into the hazy sunshine of a bright Chicago day. 

***

  1. ** RAY**

Ray stomped down the sidewalk, head lowered, face flushed, gritting his teeth, seething. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was actual steam coming out of his ears.

“Ray. Ray. Ray. Ray —”

“What!” He turned, fists clenched. He really needed to hit something. Preferably Jack.

“The car’s this way.”

Ray peered over Fraser’s shoulder at Jack, who was — smart man — keeping his distance, giving Ray a chance to recover. Apparently the Captain wasn’t a complete moron with a death wish after all. Too bad.

Ray glared at Fraser. “We are not working with that asshole. Not in a million years.” He was tempted to punctuate the words, “that asshole” by flipping Jack the bird, but was pretty sure he’d take it as an invitation rather than an insult. Ray settled for frowning and jamming his fists into his pockets. They needed to find this stupid space rock, close the case as fast as possible, and get this s.o.b. out of their lives.

“Ray, I understand your anger but we really don’t have a choice. There’s more going on here than we fully understand. I believe there’s more to the Captain too. In fact, I suspect he’s hiding some great personal loss beneath all that bravado. People like him often are.”

Fraser would pick up on that. Loss recognized loss. 

But none of that mattered. Jack had crossed the line and Ray had no sympathy for him. 

“I don’t care. What he said to you — my God…” Nobody had a right to talk to Fraser that way, or to hit on him like that. Especially not a smart, sexy, impossibly gorgeous stranger that Ray didn’t have a chance in hell against.

“I know. And he’s paid for it. Though I’m not sure that coming to blows was necessary.”

It was absolutely necessary. 

“I’ll do it again in a heartbeat. It’s like he thinks he can just go for whatever he wants and the world is going to give it to him.” Ray stole a glance at Fraser. “That’s not how any of this works.” 

If it were that easy, Fraser would be his. But he wasn’t, never would be. The straight arrow Mountie and the queer, skinny flatfoot could be partners, but not  _ partners _ . The idea that Jack, a guy they barely knew, could succeed where Ray had failed was too much to take. A real kick in the nuts. No way could the universe be that unfair. 

“Maybe it is how things work, for him,” Fraser said. “When people rise to positions of authority and power, it can override their sense of good judgment. It reminds me of a story about a seal hunter who got his comeuppance from a ...”

“Not now, Fraser. I don’t care if he’s MI-5 or NASA or Scooby-Doo. The guy’s a prick.” 

And then there was the whole alien thing — the idea of the space rock being made by a bug-eyed monster straight out of Roswell was nuts.

Fraser studied Ray for a moment. “Were you trying to defend my honor, Ray?”

“I dunno. Maybe. It was wrong, what he said. Wrong with a capital W.”

“Well, if you were, I thank you for it. You’re a good man.”

A good man. Yeah. Warmth filled his chest at Fraser’s words. 

“But as you know, I am perfectly capable of defending my own virtue. Or losing it.”

Ray stared at him. “Losing it?” What the hell did that mean?

Fraser smiled enigmatically. “Whenever and with whomever I choose.”

Ray couldn’t stop the jolt of electricity that shot down his spine and straight to his gut, then lower still. Talk about getting whipsawed. He wasn’t at all sure what to make of Fraser’s comment.

“Are you sure you’re not being roofied by Jack’s pheromone things?”

“Absolutely,” Fraser smiled again. “I’m in full control of my faculties.”

“Freak.”

***

  1. **JACK**

Jack followed several paces behind, which not only put a safe distance between him and Ray’s fist, it gave him a great view of both men’s backsides. And Ray had a really nice ass. Fraser’s was, not surprisingly, perfect: all muscular and beefcake. But Ray’s was special. He had one of those little round numbers that you only saw on welterweights or dancers. If Ray could get over the jealousy act and was willing to share… damn… Jack couldn’t wait to get his hands on those sweet cheeks. Ray’s or Fraser’s, or both. Preferably both. At the same time.

Because they were a pair, no doubt about that, even if they couldn't admit it. They walked like lovers — brushing against each other, casually touching, mirroring each other’s movements, sharing space.

And the way Ray swaggered was, well, it was hypnotic. Mesmerizing. Electric. His body buzzed with barely contained energy, a charged-up Tesla coil ready to arc. Jack’s insides twisted with interest, with desire. His fingertips twitched, wanting to feel that spark, taste it on his tongue. But for now, unfortunately, that would have to wait, because it was time to focus. 

Jack whistled appreciatively as they reached Ray’s car. 

“Nice wheels,” he said, hoping the compliment would go some way towards getting Ray back into his good graces. It was a great car — a 1967 GTO, jet black, and the sweetest ride he’d seen this side of a tricked-out Chula Warship. “Can I call shotgun?”

Ray snarled. “Yeah. I want you where I can see you.”

“I don’t blame you,” Jack said as he reached for the passenger door handle, “I am irresistible...” his voice trailed off and he jerked his hand backwards, startled. “Is that a wolf?” 

What the hell was a wolf doing in a GTO in Chicago? More important, was it going to eat him? Regenerating from being eaten wasn’t something he’d had to endure yet, and hopefully wouldn’t ever.

“Half-wolf, actually,” Fraser replied. “He’s deaf, but he can lipread. His name is Diefenbaker.” 

Right. A deaf, lipreading, half-wolf. That wasn’t particularly reassuring.

“He’s good, right? A good wolf, not a... not a...” Jack couldn’t bring himself to say it. 

The words “Bad Wolf” flashed through his mind and sent him spiraling into memory. He’d visited the Powell Estate to check on Rose Tyler not too long ago, watching her grow up from a distance but never able to speak to her, lest he damage the timelines and blow a hole in the Earth the size of Belgium. 

His heart sank further at the memories of what was yet to come. He bore the scars of things that hadn’t happened yet—such was the nature of time travel. Jack could still remember the tingle of the Timelord’s lips on his own, and it burned.

After he’d overshot the twenty-first century and landed in 1869 by accident, his vortex manipulator had shorted out. A fortune teller had told him long ago that yes, he would one day reunite with the Doctor, but not until sometime around 2008. It was an eternity to wait for a rescue from this technologically and sexually backward time, but even so, it gave him hope. Dangerous thing, hope. 

“I assure you that Dief can be very helpful when he wants to be,” Fraser said, interrupting Jack’s woolgathering. 

Diefenbaker pranced in the back seat, tongue lolling, eager to greet the newcomer. Jack opened the door and the half-wolf bounded forward to sniff. Dief gave Jack’s proffered hand a lick of approval and snuffled his clothes.

“He seems to like you,” Fraser gestured to where Dief was nosing at Jack’s arm.

“What?” Jack petted the top of Diefenbaker’s head. “Oh. It’s probably just the smell of bagel on my hands.” 

He really, really hoped it wasn’t his pheromones, which had been engineered to attract a variety of species and didn’t discriminate. ‘So many species, so little time’ could be taken too far, even for Jack. He drew the line at sentient, sexually mature, and able to communicate, for consent reasons as well as ethical ones. Despite his reputation, he wouldn’t actually screw anything that moved. Just most things, so long as everyone agreed it was a good idea. 

“Sorry, Diefenbaker, I don’t have anything for you. You like bagels? Maybe next time I’ll bring you one.” Jack climbed into the passenger seat and closed the door.

Ray started the car, heading for the museum. As they pulled away from the curb, Jack could’ve sworn he heard a low, guttural voice talking to him from the back seat, almost a whisper, barely audible over the rumble of the engine. 

“I prefer doughnuts. And before you get any ideas, Human, I like you well enough, so long as you respect my Pack, but you’re not my type.” 

Jack jerked his head around to stare at the animal. Fraser looked from Dief to Jack, his brow furrowed. Jack shook his head, rubbed his ears, and shifted back to face the windshield. He must have imagined that. Probably the lingering jet-lag talking.

***

They reached the museum in a matter of minutes. Jack, Fraser, and Ray clambered out of the car, and Diefenbaker bounded out behind them. Dief seemed to have formed an attachment to Jack and kept circling his legs, nearly tripping him. 

“I’ve already searched the interior of the museum and conducted interviews. Can I assume you have as well?” Jack asked, taking the lead. Fraser nodded. “In that case, I suggest we survey the perimeter and scan for traces.”

“Hold up there, Mister Eager,” Ray demanded. “This is my case. You do what I say, when I say it, and you keep out of the way. You got that?” 

Jack stopped and stared into Ray’s eyes. “That’s  _ Captain _ Eager,” Jack smiled, hoping for a positive response that didn’t come. Ray’s stony expression might as well have been carved in granite. “Very well, Detective. What’s your plan?

“We search outside, look for anything that might tell us where the perp went.”

“You mean survey the perimeter and scan for traces?” Jack asked innocently, batting his eyelashes.

“Yeah, smartass.” Ray pulled Fraser to one side and hissed, “This isn’t gonna work, Fraser. It’s all I can do not to deck him every time I look at him.”

“I understand your reluctance, Ray, but it makes sense to maximize our resources. Diefenbaker has the superior nose, and you are the superior detective. What Jack has to offer remains to be seen, but you know the saying: keep your friends close and your black-ops agents closer...”

“Nobody says that,” Ray pursed his lips. He glanced over at Jack, thought about it for a second, nodded, then said to Fraser, “But flattery will get you everywhere.” 

Flattery, hmm. Good to know. 

“So, what are our assets?” Jack asked. “Electromagnetic waveform manipulator? Chemical tracer? Magnetometer?”

Ray stared at him. “Eyes. Ears. Hands. Dief’s nose. Fraser’s tongue,” he tapped his temple with a finger. “Brains if you’ve got any.”

Fraser’s tongue? This was getting more interesting by the second. However, it confirmed Jack’s fears that their assets were limited. Except for Ray and Fraser’s very nice ones, of course.

“That’s too bad. Guess we’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way.” Jack scrunched up his sleeve and started tapping on his wrist cuff. The display screen lit up and a few of the indicator lights blinked on and off, then it beeped. Dief pricked his ears up, barked once, and snuffled along the ground in front of them.

“What is that thing?” Ray asked.

“I’m scanning for alien tech. I’ve narrowed the frequency to match what we already know about the meteorite’s mineral composition.” Jack strode purposefully along the outside of the building’s marble fa ç ade, holding his arm out, watching the display.

“Which is what, exactly?”

“I’m picking up traces of lanthanides,” Jack said, glancing at the screen, “Erbium, Samarium,  Azbantium...  and a couple elements I can’t identify.”

“Fraser, are you getting this?”

“I’m not familiar with  Azbantium, an d m y knowledge of rare earth metals is limited, but I believe Erbium and Samarium are used in nuclear reactor control rods, among other things . ”

“You’ve got it,” Jack said, impressed. “Whoever stole the meteorite possibly intends to use it in some kind of nuclear device. Hopefully not a bomb…”

“A bomb?” Ray asked, alarmed.

“We need to act quickly,” Fraser said, falling in step with Jack.

“Our target isn’t far from here,” Jack sped up his pace. “Don’t know why my scanner didn’t pick it up last night...”

“When you weren’t breaking and entering,” Ray said, sarcastic.   


Jack gave Ray a sheepish smile. “When I wasn’t breaking and entering. Just doing a little research.” 

The wrist cuff beeped loudly, and Jack stopped, turning in a circle, scanning the ground. He pulled out a slender flashlight and shined it on the pavement. 

“What’s that for?”

“Shortwave ultraviolet,” Jack explained, moving the spot of light slowly over the concrete. “Don’t look directly at it unless you want your retinas fried.”

“If I’m not mistaken,” Fraser added helpfully, “certain elements fluoresce when exposed to various frequencies of ultraviolet light.”

“Exactly,” Jack said, impressed again. The Mountie was clever. 

The beam of light caught something: a flicker of blue-violet, then a flash of neon green.

“Bingo!” Jack crowed. He bent down to examine the tiny chip of rock. “Do either of you have a handkerchief or a glove or…?”

Before he could finish, Fraser had whipped out a starched white handkerchief and handed it to him. Gingerly, Jack used the cloth to pick up the fragment and turned it over to see it better. 

“That, my friends, is a chip of the meteorite. Question is, where’s the rest of it?”

Jack ran another scan, but the only thing making the wrist cuff respond was this tiny chip of rock. This didn’t look good. It seemed that the perp had gotten away with the bulk of the artifact, and there was no telling whether they’d be able to find it.

He pulled a small lead-lined pouch out of his pocket and put the chip in it. The scanner stopped beeping as soon as he zipped the top of the pouch shut. 

“Hey, that’s evidence,” Ray objected.

“I realize that,” Jack said. “We need to put it in lead or it’ll throw off the scanner. It’s perfectly safe for now.” He slid the closed pouch back into his pocket and patted it reassuringly.

Jack raised his wrist, tapped the scanner to begin a new scan, and turned slowly in a circle. Nothing. He swore under his breath. 

“I think we’ve hit a dead end.” 

Diefenbaker barked. In unison, they all turned towards him, and he trotted off at a brisk pace, occasionally looking back at the men over his shoulder. He headed east, towards the Adler Planetarium and the lake.

“Dief’s found something. We should follow him,” Fraser said, “though whether we’ll find anything useful at the other end, or one of Chicago’s many fine taco vendors, remains to be seen.”

***

They followed Diefenbaker across the causeway, jogging to keep up. Dief kept his nose to the ground. He stopped once and doubled back, then darted off again, following the unseen trail. They neared the entrance to the planetarium, its gray domed roof rising from an artificial hill. It reminded Jack all too much of a Dalek, and he shuddered.

Dief paused for a moment, turned in circles as though lost, then caught the scent again. He bounded off towards the south, skirting the grassy circular complex until they ended up on the lakeshore. Dief stopped abruptly outside the Doane Observatory telescope building and pawed at the door. 

Thick green vines clambered up the outside of the cylindrical concrete structure, nearly obscuring the gray metal entrance doors. The building faced the lake, its round roof sliced off at an odd angle so it resembled a lipstick sticking up out of its case.

Fraser reached for the door handle and pulled. 

“After you,” Jack said. 

“After you — I insist.” Fraser replied, in a tone that brooked no argument.

They were still positioning themselves where they could keep an eye on him. Jack was going to have to up his trust game if he was going to get anywhere with them.

“Thank you kindly,” Jack said, winking at Fraser, and stepped inside.

A large white telescope filled the room. The scope was mounted in the fork of a massive, yellow, metal arm that allowed the telescope to rotate and tilt.

Next to the scope was a rolling staircase. A thirty-something woman, her long brown hair tied back in a ponytail, perched on the top step of the staircase. She was casually dressed in khaki pants, long-sleeved dark knit shirt, and bright red Converse hi-tops. She was busy fiddling with the eyepieces of the telescope, so focused on her work that she didn’t acknowledge them when they walked in. 

“Hello there, ma’am…” Fraser said, getting her attention.

She turned away from her work and took in the motley group below.

“He’ll have to stay outside,” she said in a strong Australian accent, and pointed sharply towards Dief. “Didn’t you see the sign? No animals allowed. Can’t have fur getting in the equipment.”

“Stay,” Fraser said, and directed Dief outside. “We’ll only be a minute.”

Dief huffed his disapproval, but obediently flopped down just outside the doorway, resting his snout on his paws.

Jack shielded his scanner with his hand so she couldn’t see it and tapped it twice. It beeped once, hinting of a faint residual signature, but then fell silent. Hmm. The result was too weak to be certain of anything. The meteorite wasn’t here. But why had Dief led them to this spot?

Fraser opened his mouth to speak, but Jack waved him aside.

“I’ve got this,” he said, giving Fraser a knowing look. To the woman up on the staircase he flashed his most dazzling smile. “Hello there,” he said, “Captain Jack Harkness. And who might you be?”

The woman cocked an eyebrow warily at him, unimpressed. Jack’s smile drooped. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Her gaze moved from one man to another, unsure what to make of this oddball group. 

“Can I help you?” she asked. 

“Just a bunch of space nerds, that’s us,” Jack laughed, waving a hand at the telescope. “I’m sure you can relate.”

She eyed him suspiciously, then straightened up, going into what Jack instantly recognized as “customer service mode”. 

“We’re not doing any solar viewing today, but there’s a laser light show tonight if you want to come back later,” she said in her best Tour Guide voice. 

“Actually, ma’am,” Fraser stepped forwards. “We’re investigating the missing Dolgellau meteorite. We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

The woman sighed. “I’ve already given a statement to the police. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get this calibrated.” She turned to her instruments, breaking eye contact.

“What’s your name?” Ray shouted. He was getting impatient.

“Doctor Langstrom. Dawn Langstrom,” she replied, still not looking at them. “It’s all in the statement.” She turned her back further on them, shutting them out completely.

Well, then.

***

Dief led them back to the planetarium, clambered up the front steps, and made a beeline for one of the garbage cans that flanked the doors. He snuffled in the trash until he pulled out a half-eaten doughnut.

“Leave it,” Fraser commanded. Diefenbaker wolfed the treat down in one bite and cocked his ears defiantly at Fraser, who shook his head in disgust.

“We might as well go inside and have a look around,” Jack said.

Ray swaggered past them through the doors and flashed his badge. “They’re with me. We need to have a look around. It’s about the stolen meteorite.”

“Of course, sir,” a harried-looking, anxious ticket clerk replied, quickly printing out three visitor passes and handing them over the counter.

“Thank you kindly.” Fraser tucked the passes into his pocket and looked up, amazed. 

A central dome soared overhead, flanked by pyramidal glass-roofed exhibit galleries. The walls were lined with backlighted star maps and photographs of nebulae, planets, constellations, satellites, and spacecraft. Enormous models of planets floated above, suspended by cables from the multi-paned glass ceiling. To one side, a gallery was filled with Apollo-era capsules, space suits, gear, and old computer panels.

Downstairs were even more exhibits. In one room, a massive hollow metal sphere held pride of place. 

“The Atwood Sphere!” Fraser exclaimed. “I’ve read about this. Did you know that this is the oldest known planetarium in the Western Hemisphere?”

“Whoop de do.” Ray waved a hand dismissively at the large metal ball in front of them. 

Fraser ignored the comment. “The sphere is seventeen feet in diameter and has 692 holes drilled through its metal surface. These holes allow light to enter, showing the positions of the stars.”

“And this is gonna help us solve our case how, exactly?”

“I was merely appreciating the craftsmanship, Ray.” Fraser pursed his lips.

“I, too, appreciate fine craftsmanship.” A smirk played about Jack’s lips as his ran his gaze over Fraser’s body again. “You are clearly a man of impeccable taste.”

Ray scowled at Jack, fingers twitching. 

Fraser made a beeline for a display of antique brass and wood telescopes, sextants, and other instruments. He wanted to stop and look, but Jack, spotting a nearby case filled with ancient astronomical devices, grabbed his arm and pulled him over to examine them more closely.

“What are those things?” Ray asked, agitation in his voice. 

Fraser pointed to various artifacts in the case, naming them one by one. “That’s an armillary sphere … this is an astrolabe … that’s a beautifully designed orrery, and…” Fraser stopped in his tracks and stared at  a  mysterious clockwork device. “Is that an Antikythera mechanism?”

“A what?” Ray asked.

“Antikythera mechanism,” Jack explained, “a two thousand year old Greek computer made of finely crafted interlocking bronze gears.”

Fraser nodded. “It’s the earliest known analog computer. It was used to track the movements of planets, predict eclipses, the phases of the moon, and other astronomical events. A remarkable piece of technology for its time.”

“But this one…” Jack squinted and studied the object more closely in its Plexiglas case, “this one isn’t from Earth.”

“How do you know?” Ray asked, incredulous. 

“Trust me, I just do.”

“Right. Trust you.”

“It could be part of a weapon,” Jack said, a worried frown creasing his brow. 

“You can’t be serious,” Ray scoffed. 

“I never joke about alien tech, Ray. I can’t be sure, but it might be a targeting dial.” Something clicked in Jack’s memory, and he inhaled sharply. “Oh my god…”

“What is it, Captain?” Fraser leaned forward for a closer look.

“Look. There. That hole in the center, see? A baseball-sized meteorite would fit perfectly in that space.” He snapped his fingers. “The meteorite. It’s the power source. I’m almost sure of it. Shit.”

“Almost?” Ray asked, still skeptical.

“What do we do now?” Fraser asked.

“I think we should come back tonight, nose around the planetarium after dark, see if our thief shows up, or maybe that astronomer. I think she’s involved. There was a faint residual signature from the meteorite in the telescope building, but not enough to accuse her of anything. Either way, our thief is going to come after this piece sooner or later.”

“Why don’t we just alert the museum and have the object put under lockdown?” Fraser asked.

“Because if this is an inside job,” Jack answered, “we don’t want to show our hand too soon. Better to catch them red-handed.”

“Fraser,” Ray said, pacing back and forth, “I hate to admit it but I think Jack’s right. I got a hunch.”

“A hunch?” Jack asked.

“You got a problem with that?” Ray squared his shoulders and faced Jack.

“Not at all. Some of my best friends are hunches,” Jack winked. “Besides, sharing a night with you two? Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

***

  1. ** RAY**

Hours later, Ray pulled the GTO into the planetarium parking lot. He picked a spot with a good view of the front doors. Couples and groups of young people, here for a late-night laser Pink Floyd show, migrated towards the doors and up the stairs. Their bodies bumped together like packs of puppies, and their laughter drifted on the night air. Ray couldn’t help but envy them: their youth, their sense of belonging, their innocence.

He took his glasses off, all too conscious of his aging eyes and cursing his own vanity. He buffed out the smudges with the tail of his shirt and put them back on, then gazed out at the Chicago skyline. Multicolored city lights glittered across the water, reflected in the glassy, onyx-black waves of the lake. The sulfur glow from streetlights and the ever-present haze of air pollution obscured all but the very brightest objects in the night sky. There wasn’t much to see up there — a razor-thin blade of crescent moon so sharp it could slice right through you, a few scattered stars, and something that was probably Venus glowing low on the horizon. He wondered if Fraser ever missed the stars.

As if in answer to the unspoken question, Fraser said, “I’m going to take Dief for a walk before we settle in.” He climbed out of the back seat, gestured for the wolf to follow, and the two of them took off at a brisk pace towards the waterfront.

And he was alone. With Jack. Oh boy.

“Nice shirt,” Jack said, eyeing him up and down as Ray tucked the tail back into his pants.

Ray grinned in spite of himself. “A man with style is a man who can smile.”

“Don’t suppose I can talk you out of it?”

“Nice try.” Ray smirked, played it cool — then his stomach growled like Dief stalking a pizza. Embarrassing. “Damn it,” he said, whacking his palm on the steering wheel.

“Something wrong?” Jack angled himself in the front seat to get a better look at Ray.

“I’m starved. Should’ve stopped for food. All we have is cold coffee,” Ray waggled his half-empty cup.

“You’re lucky I’m here.” Jack pulled a sack from somewhere deep inside his coat. “In more ways than one. I brought sandwiches from the hotel.” He offered Ray a plastic-wrapped sandwich. 

Ray eyed it dubiously. “What kind?”

“Roast beef, of course. I do love a thick slab of meat.”

Ray rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you do.” He accepted the sandwich, and gave a grudging nod of thanks. 

Jack took out another sandwich, carefully unwrapped it, and began to eat, staring out the front windows and into the night.

***

  1. **JACK**

After a minute of quiet munching, Ray broke the silence. 

“You ever been married, Jack?”

Well,  _ that _ came out of nowhere. Jack debated how much of the truth to tell. How could he explain that he’d been married, but had to abandon the love of his life because she grew old and he never could? Ray was good at sniffing out lies, so Jack decided on honesty, more or less. 

“Once. Not anymore.” He took another bite of sandwich. 

“Divorce?”

Jack’s throat clenched and it hurt to swallow. He picked up his own coffee and took a sip before answering. He was still learning the terrible truth: that immortality wasn’t about living forever — it was about leaving behind everything and everyone you’d ever loved. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. He shook his head to stop the tears and glared at his cup. How dare it not be something stronger right now — like a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster or a shot of Aldebaran brandy… anything to dull the pain.

“Something like that,” Jack said, his voice choked with sadness. “Her name was Estelle.”

“You’re joking,” Ray said. “My ex’s name is Stella.”

“Stars.” Jack’s voice was barely audible. “They’re both stars.” Fire-bright. Distant. Untouchable. 

“Brightest in the sky,” Ray said in his own hoarse whisper. He popped the last of his sandwich into his mouth, stared off into the middle distance, and fiddled absently with the ball-chain bracelet on his wrist.

“A toast,” Jack raised his coffee cup. “To the stars.” And to you, Doctor, wherever you are, out there among them.

Ray reluctantly tapped his cup to Jack’s.

“I can’t make you like me, Detective,” Jack said, crumpling the empty wrappers and tucking them back into the bag, “But I hope we can be civil. What can I do to make it up to you?” 

“You want to butter my muffin, Jack?” 

Jack nodded. Indeed, he did want to butter Ray’s muffin, and so much more. The gradually increasing level of Jack’s pheromones inside this enclosed car were communicating that to Ray at a subconscious level, too.

“Keep your paws off Fraser.”

So. That’s how it was, was it? How unfortunate. Not to mention backwards, possessive, jealous, and pitifully uncreative. 

This was going to take some work.

“You know,” Jack began, his voice soft, “I’m leaving when this is all over and you’ll never have to see me again, so...”

“Thank God.”

Jack paused at the interruption. “As I was saying… since I’m nothing more than a shooting star myself in the grand scheme of things, I can’t think of one good reason why both of us shouldn’t put paws on Fraser at the same time. If he agrees to it, of course.”

Ray’s head whipped around so fast his neck cracked, eyes wide open in shock.

“Besides, you strike me as the kind of guy who’d try anything once.” Jack risked a light caress to Ray’s arm before quickly withdrawing his hand. “Just imagine it.”

Ray squeezed his eyes shut, put his palms over his face, and shook his head rapidly from side to side. “It’s not like that at all. Fraser’s not… we’re not… No, no, no…”

Jack continued, relentless, giddy with where his mind had taken him. 

“Methinks thou dost protest too much. I see the way you look at each other.” Hell, you could tell from outer space that something was going on between them.

Ray froze at that. “You got it all wrong,” he shook his head again. “And even if Fraser was… if we were... which we definitely  _ aren’t… _ I can’t.” Ray looked plaintive. “I just can’t.”

“Afraid I’ll blow your cover, Stanley?”

The stunned look on Ray’s face said it all. 

“Ray, I know far more than you realize.” Jack didn’t, really, but he knew enough from his own background investigations. The cards were in his hands now and he fully intended to play them.

Ray looked worried. His body tensed with that nervous, vibrating energy, but not at all in the way Jack wanted.

“You can trust me,” Jack continued, “I’ve got considerable experience keeping secrets.”

Ray studied Jack for a moment, then his shoulders fell like a deflating balloon.

Ah. Good. A crack in the defenses. 

“I’m a master of undercover work,” Jack added, his tone mischievous.

Ray snorted and shook his head. “Don’t start.”

Jack pressed his advantage, full steam ahead, damn the torpedoes. 

“Between the three of us, we could improve international relations. I can see it now — representatives of three countries,  _ coming _ together...”

“Please, make it stop.”

“Promise me you’ll at least think about it? Deep down, I know you want to.”

At that instant, Fraser returned with Dief. Ray clapped his palms together and mouthed a silent “thank you” to the heavens.

Fraser and Dief climbed into the back seat. Jack offered the bag of food to Fraser, who accepted it. He pulled out two sandwiches, one for himself and one for Dief. Dief wolfed his down in three bites. Fraser nibbled his sandwich thoughtfully, glancing back and forth from Ray to Jack, a look of mild concern on his face. 

Now then. Time for Jack to woo Fraser while they waited for something interesting to happen at the planetarium.

“Mind if I turn on the radio?” Jack asked, scrambling for a distraction to ease the tension. 

Ray shrugged and nodded.

Jack turned the knob, moving through the static, searching. Glen Miller’s _Moonlight_ _Serenade _came on, and a pang of regret and loss seared through his gut at the memory of dancing atop his long-lost ship with Rose. He rubbed his hand across his face, sighed, and changed the station, flipping restlessly until he landed on a baseball game. 

“You play baseball?” Jack turned to Fraser, hoping to get under that opaque Mountie exterior. Fraser was reserved, to say the least, but there was more there than met the eye. Jack was certain of it.

“Being what I suppose you might call a stereotypical Canadian, my preferred sports include hockey and curling. That said, I was on the baseball team while at Depot. I’m a switch hitter.” 

Ray made a strangled sound from his throat. 

Jack cocked an eyebrow, looked from Ray back to Fraser, and smiled. “A switch hitter, you say? What position do you prefer — pitcher or catcher?”

Ray groaned softly again. Fraser looked at him, but Jack kept his gaze on Fraser, trying to determine if he fully understood the subtext of their conversation. Surely, he must — the innocent act had to be a front. Had to be.

“Umpire, usually,” Fraser said, finishing his sandwich and wiping his fingertips neatly on a paper napkin. 

“Like being in control, do you?” Jack gave Fraser a suggestive look. “I can get into that.” 

Jack could’ve sworn he heard Ray’s teeth crack as his jaw clenched. But Jack held his expression steady, locked on Fraser’s face.

“Actually, Ray is the superior ball player,” Fraser turned to Ray, beaming proudly. “He really knows his way around the bases, and demonstrates excellent skill with a bat.”

A fit of coughing erupted from the driver’s seat. Jack turned to whack Ray on the back a couple of times. 

“You ok there, Ray?”

Ray nodded, scowling at Jack.

“You’ve been holding out on me. You’re such a tease,” Jack pouted at Ray. 

“Oh yes,” Fraser continued, “I was fortunate enough to witness one of his home runs. In addition, Ray is a fine chess player, a master of fisticuffs, and an excellent dancer. He’s multitalented.”

“Are you, now,” Jack said, looking Ray up and down with a new level of admiration. “I imagine you’ve got quite the moves. I’d like to see them sometime. Perhaps you could show them to me. And to Fraser, of course.” 

Ray growled in frustration and spoke. “I know I’m gonna regret asking, but how about you — play any sports?” Ray was clearly trying to steer the conversation to safer ground. Which was hopeless with Jack, but it was fun to watch Ray try.

“I enjoy shooting hoops, and I’m very good at ball handling, if I may say so. I’m also partial to Greek wrestling.” Jack smiled and bit his lip. “You’ll find I’m quite… versatile.”

“Yup,” Ray said, “I’m sorry I asked.”

***

  1. ** RAY**

Ray was going to kill Jack. Either that or slam him against a wall and fuck that semi-permanent smirk right off his face. At this point it was a toss-up. 

Despite the insufferable arrogance, the endless come-ons, and Ray’s better judgment, he was starting to like the guy. For starters, Jack had brought sandwiches for everyone, including the wolf, which meant he was thoughtful. He knew smart-person things the way Fraser did. And unlike Ray, he hadn’t punched anyone yet, which meant that he had some self-control, even if that self-control didn’t extend to flirting. He’d lost a wife and cried about it in front of Ray, which meant he had a heart. Heck, even Diefenbaker seemed to like him. It would be so much easier to keep hating Jack, but that was getting harder to do by the minute. Other things were getting harder by the minute, too… and oh god, he really was rubbing off on Ray… 

Fraser’s reactions were even more confusing. If Ray didn’t know better he would’ve sworn that Fraser was actually flirting with Jack. He seemed genuinely attracted to the Captain, in ways Ray hadn’t dared to contemplate. The switch-hitter comment had nearly caused Ray to choke. Had Fraser meant it in the same way Jack had? What the hell was going on? Was it even real, or just a side effect of Jack’s pheromones?

And if Fraser was interested in guys… no, scratch that — if Fraser was interested in  _ Jack _ — and more important, if he wanted Jack more than he wanted Ray, then it was downright selfish of Ray to stand in the way. That wasn’t buddies. Not to mention that getting in Fraser’s way was stupid, because once Fraser had his mind set on something, there was no stopping him. 

Ray would just have to bow out gracefully and hope some tiny bit of their friendship could be saved. Because if he lost that, he didn’t know what he’d do. His sense of self was so tangled up with Fraser, in this job, in this identity that wasn’t even his own, he’d be as lost as that goddamned meteorite. Ray bit the inside of his cheek, angry with himself. He sounded like some kind of whiny, needy animal. Shit.

Ray’s head was spinning again. Whether from the damn pheromones or Jack’s invitation to join a clandestine threesome, he couldn’t tell. The world was going sideways at light speed, faster than he could keep up, and everything was spiraling out of control. 

“Isn’t that Doctor Langstrom?” Fraser tapped Ray on the shoulder and pointed out the window. 

Ray turned to look. Sure enough, the chick was headed towards the main building at a fast clip, head down, shoulders hunched, red hi-tops flashing in the glare of the streetlights.

“That looks like a woman on a mission,” Jack said, reaching for the door handle. “Let’s go.”

“Oh no you don’t. My case, my lead, my decision, Jacko.” Ray looked to Fraser for reassurance. If Fraser thought it was a good idea, then it was a good idea, no matter what Jack thought. 

Fraser nodded. 

“Let’s do this. Pitter patter,” Ray said, and the four of them climbed out of the car and made their way to the front of the building.

“Dief, you keep watch out here. I’m afraid dogs aren’t allowed.” 

Dief looked at Fraser with an insulted, “No shit, Sherlock,” expression and took up a position beside the front door.

They followed Doctor Langstrom inside, holding back, shadowing her from a distance. As they crept past darkened displays and dimly lit corridors, ducking into alcoves and behind exhibits whenever she glanced backwards, Ray couldn’t escape the feeling that they’d somehow gotten trapped in a freaky Hardy Boys Mysteries episode.

The main theater was the only source of light and activity, packed with people at the laser show. Muffled strains of Pink Floyd throbbed through the walls, along with a blue cloud of pot smoke wafting from under the closed theater doors. 

They really should send Vice in there one night. On second thought, rounding up a bunch of stoned kids hardly seemed fair. Ray had smoked his share of weed back in the day, so it seemed kinda hypocritical to raise a fuss about it. Besides, they had bigger fish to fry.

When she reached the ancient artifacts gallery, Doctor Langstrom stopped in front of the case that held the Antikythera device. She quickly unlocked it, grabbed the artifact, and tucked it into the canvas messenger bag she had slung across her body.

“Told you,” Jack said.

“Freeze! Chicago PD!”

She looked up at them in surprise, then turned and sped off, sprinting towards a darkened hallway, away from the theater, away from the lights, into the depths of the building.

“Crap,” Ray said, and ran after her, Fraser and Jack at his heels. 

***

Doctor Langstrom took a sharp left through a set of double doors. They bolted after her, only to find themselves caught in a vestibule. Before they could turn around, the rear doors locked behind them.

Ray pounded on the doors in front of them, then careened back to the other pair of doors, rattling the handles and yelling.

“Damn it! We’re locked in.”

“Stand back,” Jack said, assuming a wide stance and firing his sonic blaster at the doors.

The gun sliced a neat, square hole in the doors, just big enough to climb through.

“What the hell is that thing?” Ray yelled as he clambered through the gaping hole.

After the three of them had gone through, Jack whipped around and fired the gun at the hole. The square hole closed up again, leaving perfectly unmarked doors.

“How did you do that?” Fraser asked, running alongside Jack.

“Digital rewind.”

“Where did you obtain such a device?” Fraser paused at a T-intersection of hallways, searching left and right for any sign of Dr. Langstrom. He cupped a hand to his ear, and nodded once. “This way.”

“The weapons factory at Villengard.” 

“Is that in France?” Ray asked, overtaking them.

"Something like that," Jack said.

They raced down a short, twisting flight of stairs, heard a crashing noise in one of the classrooms, and skidded to a stop outside the door. Ray raised his gun. Cautiously, they eased into the darkened room, weapons at the ready.

Click. The door closed behind them with a snick of a deadbolt turning.

Fraser managed to find a light switch. Through the security-glass window of the door, they watched as Doctor Langstrom escaped, sprinting towards the main exit doors.

Ray snarled. “Locked in, twice in one night! This has to be a record… Jack, quick, use your square-gun thing.”

Jack aimed for the wall and fired. Nothing happened. He whacked the handle a few times with the palm of his hand, and fired again. Still nothing.

“What the hell! She’s getting away!”

“It’s a very old gun… battery’s dead,” Jack said apologetically, “needs time to recharge.”

“Screw this.” Ray aimed his pistol at the lock and fired.

***

  1. **JACK**

Jack used his wrist cuff to trace her. It went off in a flurry of beeping sounds and flashing lights.

“She’s got the meteorite,” Jack said as they slammed through the first-floor doors and out into the night, ahead of a wave of people leaving the show.

Out in the parking lot, Doctor Langstrom hopped on a Vespa and took off towards the Field Museum.

Ray fired a warning shot at her back tire but missed. “Shit!” he swore, and sprinted towards the GTO.

“What I wouldn’t give for a tribophysical waveform macrokinetic extrapolator right now,” Jack said, one step behind,  Dief galloping after them.

“A what?” 

“A ride out of here. Never mind — we can’t let her get away!”

They reached the car, hopped in, and took off after her.

She sped across the causeway, circled around to the back side of the museum, jumped off the Vespa, and dashed towards the rear emergency exit.

Ray skidded the GTO to a stop in the driveway, leaped from the car, and followed her. Panting, Fraser and Jack caught up a second later, just in time to see Doctor Langstrom disappear inside the building.

“The door!” Fraser shouted, whipping off his hat and hurling it like a frisbee towards the gap as the door closed. At the last second, the brim of the hat jammed itself in the door opening. It was enough. 

Jack reached the door first, wrenching it open. He scooped up Fraser’s hat and handed it off to him as he raced past. Once inside, Dief zoomed ahead, hot on Doctor Langstrom’s trail. 

The museum’s catacombs were dark, maze-like, and confusing. They followed Dief through a dusty warren of offices and curator’s labs until they dead-ended at a true relic of the past: the old, rusty furnace room. 

It was a vast space, filled with black boilers and ventilation tubes that ran at right angles from the tanks. Pipes snaked across the room, bending upwards into the darkened ceiling overhead. The entire room was permeated by a steamy mist and a whiff of natural gas.

Dief had stopped in the doorway, crouched down, his ears back, fur standing up, a low growl filling his throat. The three men halted behind him and peered into the gloom.

“Dief, stay,” Fraser commanded. The wolf froze in place, still snarling.

Doctor Langstrom was in the far corner of the cavernous room, barely visible behind a huge black boiler. She had knelt down and was fiddling with her bag. 

“Chicago PD!” Ray yelled again. “Freeze!”

She spun and raised her arm towards them, a flash of metal in her hand.

“Gun!” Fraser shouted.

“Stay bac k or I’ ll shoot!” She waved the  g un around wi l d l y.

They dove for cover as a bullet ricocheted off the heavy steel door frame, sparking and sending bits of metal flying through the air. 

Jack pulled out a gun and shot back. A red laser bolt zinged across the room, missed its target, and blasted a hole in the far wall, sending up a cloud of brick dust.

“I thought you said your gun’s battery was dead!” Ray yelled.

“I always carry a spare.”

“You pull that out of your ass, or what?”

“Trust me, you really don’t want to know,” Jack said, huddling next to Fraser behind a huge pipe.

Another bullet pierced a pipe a foot from Jack’s head, a plume of steam erupting from the hole.

Jack raised his gun to fire again but Fraser blocked his arm. “Everyone please stop shooting!” Fraser shouted. “If you hit a gas pipe it could explode!”

“You got any better ideas?” Ray yelled back.

“I’m not an especially religious man,” Fraser said, “but right now I’m sorely tempted to send up a prayer for assistance.”

“Oh, I’m quite religious,” Jack said. “You’ll often find me on my knees.”

“For god’s sake, Jack,” Ray shouted, “not the time.”

Ray had a point: it wasn't exactly the best place to be thinking about blowjobs. Plenty of time for that later, if they got out of this alive. Maybe diplomacy would work.

“We just want to talk to you!” Jack lied. 

“Leave us alone!” Doctor  Langstrom yelled back. She’d stopped firing, dropped her gun, and turned to focus on the device in her hands. 

“If that thing’s a bomb, I’d say we’ve got about sixty seconds before everything goes kablooey,” Jack said.

“Will you zip it?” Ray snarled, “I’m trying to work out how we can rush her.” Ray eased his way over to where Jack and Fraser were crouched.

“Sure, I’ll zip it — in sixty- _ one _ seconds.”

Fraser spoke up. “I suggest you go right, Ray. I’ll go left, and you, Jack, stay by the door to ensure she doesn’t escape.”

They were about to follow through on Fraser’s plan when it happened — a glowing creature stepped out from behind the boiler. It had the body and four legs of a deer, a doe-like humanoid face, and blue-violet wings that looked like they were made of pure light. It was huge. And breathtakingly beautiful. Peeking out from under one of its wings was a much smaller version: a fawn, it’s own stubby wings wreathed in pale green light.

“What on earth are those things?” Ray called out in a hoarse whisper. He was breathing heavily, clutching his stomach, face gone pale. 

From somewhere near the door, Dief’s growls had turned into frightened whimpers. Jack couldn’t blame him.

“Oh, they’re not from Earth,” Jack said, awe in his voice. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Those are Perytons. I thought they were a myth.” 

He reached into his pocket, gripped a small silver object in his hand, and stepped forward.

“Do you have a plan, Captain?” Fraser asked.

Jack nodded. “I’m going to try something.” He sincerely hoped this worked, or they were all probably going to die.

He raised his arm and threw the palm-sized device as hard as he could towards the Perytons. It clattered to the floor and a wave of energy force-field circles sprang up from it, forming a cage to catch the creatures. And it would have, too, if Jack hadn’t missed.

“Shit!” Jack cursed, disgusted with himself. His string of bad luck just wasn’t letting up.

“Back off!” Doctor Langstrom shouted at them, enraged. “They’re just trying to get home. They’re peaceful!”

“Fraser, I can’t take much more of this,” Ray said. He jumped up and stumbled towards Doctor Langstrom, his steps faltering. “I think I’m gonna puke.”

“I won’t let you take them!” The astronomer picked up her gun and lunged towards Ray.

A shot rang out.

At the same instant, Jack took a flying leap and tackled Ray to the floor. He felt the bullet explode in his chest as he collapsed, blood pooling under his back and through his shirt. 

Damn it. He’d just bought this shirt. His tailor was going to look at him sideways when tasked with repairing another bullet hole in the coat...

“Son of a bitch!” Ray yelled, squirming out from under Jack. He dug out his phone, tossed it to Fraser and sprinted towards Doctor Langstrom. “Stay with him, I’m going to get her.”

“Ray, wait! Not without backup!” But it was too late. Ray was gone.

“Hold on, Jack… hold on.” Fraser tapped the phone, dialing 911, but it sparked in his hand, shorting out in a burst of sparks and orange flame. He dropped the phone and it clattered to the floor in a cloud of black smoke that smelled of burnt electronics.

“Go after him… I’ll be… fine...” Jack mumbled as the life ebbed out of him. 

“Damn it,” Fraser swore under his breath. He commanded Dief to guard Jack, then took off after Ray.

Jack’s last thought before he blacked out was, “Not again.” 

And then he died for a while.

***

  1. ** RAY**

Fraser caught up with Ray just in time to see Doctor Langstrom slot the meteorite into the hole in the center of the artifact. 

A blinding flash of neon green light and an ear-splitting electronic screech filled the room. Fraser and Ray shielded their eyes. By the time the noise and light faded, the Perytons had disappeared, along with Doctor Langstrom. There was no sign of the device, no sign of the meteorite, no sign of anything. Only a deafening silence filling the blackened room.

Ray stared at the empty space, stunned. “Oh god, Oh god… ” he said, as a wave of panic and dizziness threatened to take him down.

He was even more stunned when Fraser grabbed him and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, holding him steady, keeping him on his feet. It was like being shoved face-first into a wool-wrapped mountainside. Ray felt every muscle and bone pressed against him from shoulder to hip to boot-tips, every inch warm and soft and hard all at the same time.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” Fraser whispered in his ear, his own voice trembling.

Ray tried to breathe, tried and failed to wrap his head around what was happening. Fraser pulled back a little but didn’t let go, eyes locked on Ray’s. Fraser’s mouth was only an inch away, his breath hot and thick on Ray’s lips. They stared at each other, frozen in place — and that’s when the meteor struck that killed the dinosaurs: Somebody moved. Maybe it was Fraser, maybe it was Ray, but they were kissing, actually kissing, all lips and tongues and teeth. O _ h god _ , Ray opened his mouth and angled his head, better to feel that sweet press and blur of electric fire, bolt after bolt of lightning coursing through his veins as they mouthed and nipped, sucked and sighed.

Ray’s brain shorted out. He felt like he was drowning, falling, losing consciousness. Air. He needed air. Ray broke the kiss and pulled back, breathing heavy, feeling faint again but this time for entirely different reasons. 

“Uhhhh…” he said stupidly.

Fraser let go. He straightened up, pulled his tunic down, tugged at his collar, cracked his jaw, and walked back towards the place where Jack’s body lay. Like everything was normal, like a mass-extinction event had not just happened inside Ray’s head.

Fraser knelt down to check Jack’s pulse, shook his head, and closed the Captain’s eyes.

“We’ll need to call the Coroner.” 

Coroner. Right. That was the first thing that made any sense in the last half hour, because Ray was pretty sure he was dead, too. Or dreaming — because absolutely none of this could be real.

***

  1. ** JACK**

Jack gasped, snapped his eyes open, coughed a few times, and stared up into Fraser’s shocked face. Dief, overjoyed, lunged forward and licked Jack’s mouth repeatedly.

“Holy shit!” Ray staggered backwards. 

Jack pushed Dief aside and wiped the dog slobber off his face with his sleeve.

“But… you died!” Ray stammered.

“Yeah. It happens a lot.” Jack sat up and rubbed his chest. “Ow. That stings.”

“But you were  _ dead _ ,” Ray insisted.

“Perhaps I was mistaken,” Fraser said. “Jack, we should get you to a hospital.”

“No need. I’m a quick healer.” Jack accepted Fraser’s hand and rose to his feet. The pool of blood where he’d lain had just… disappeared. Which was convenient from a forensics standpoint, but it always left witnesses questioning their own sanity. 

“Fraser, what the hell is going on?” Ray’s voice was shaking. He took another step backwards away from Jack. “What  _ are _ you, anyway?”

“I’m human — in all the ways that matter.” Jack winked at Ray, then looked around. “What happened to our gun-toting astronomer and the aliens?”

“The creatures you referred to as Perytons disappeared along with Doctor Langstrom, the meteorite, and the artifact when she put the pieces together. To where, I haven't a clue.”

“I give up.” Ray slumped to the floor, resting his back along the grungy brick wall and covering his face with his palms. “It’s too much, Fraser. I can’t take any more.”

Fraser knelt beside his partner and wrapped an arm loosely around his shoulders. “You’re all right, Ray,” he said, his voice warm and comforting, “everything is going to be fine.”

Jack stood to one side, giving them space and a moment of privacy. He looked around the room, taking stock of the hissing steam pipe, the damaged wall, and other signs of what had just happened. He pulled out his now-recharged sonic blaster, adjusted the setting, and aimed at the bullet hole in the leaking pipe.

“No, wait!” Ray shouted, but before he could jump up and stop him, Jack fired a short blast at the pipe, sealing it.

“That oughta do it,” Jack said. He strode across the room, picked up his energy-cage device and switched it off, then searched for the three spent shell casings. Yes. There. Near the boiler. He bent to pluck them from the floor, and pocketed them.

“You’re tampering with evidence of a crime scene,” Fraser protested.

Jack shrugged and walked to the doorway to pick up the last piece — the bullet that had sparked off the door frame. 

“Evidence of what? Sorry, but I told you. No one can know about any of this. I’m just tidying up a bit in case anyone — ” he shot them a warning look — “comes snooping around. As far as you’re concerned, this is an unsolved, cold case.”

Fraser opened his mouth to object and dropped his shoulders, defeated. Mister Law and Order to the core. Covering up what had happened here was obviously tearing him up inside, but it couldn’t be helped. Retcon would take care of any lingering regrets, then Wham, Bam, Thank you ma'am, Jack would be out of Chi-town by morning.

Jack sighed and leaned against the wall by the door. “All in all, I’d call this case a total clusterfuck.” Unfortunately not the fun kind. Torchwood wasn’t going to be happy.

“I suppose it depends on your point of view,” Fraser said thoughtfully.

“How so?” Jack straightened his suspenders and pulled his coat over the hole in his shirt to hide it. Undead wasn’t exactly his best look.

“The alien device turned out not to be a nuclear bomb, but rather some kind of transport. This would suggest that its components never belonged on Earth in the first place, so there was no theft. The aliens presumably got to go home. Doctor Langstrom voluntarily sacrificed herself to help them. Ray is very much alive thanks to you —“ he squeezed Ray’s shoulder— “as, miraculously, are you. On balance I’d call that a favorable outcome.” 

“Huh. Hadn’t thought of it like that,” Jack said.

Fraser was right. Some good had come of the whole adventure. Somewhere out there in the vast reaches of space, a glorious glowing creature and her baby were reunited with their kind; while back here on Earth, almost everyone was still in one piece, more or less.

Jack looked down at Fraser and Ray, contemplating the two of them, wondering at this small miracle. It occurred to him then that the three of them had something in common with the aliens and even with Doctor Langstrom: everyone involved was lost in some way. They were either far from home, or without a true name or family to call their own… and in Jack’s case, both. But despite those losses, or perhaps because of them, they had found each other.

The universe moved in mysterious ways, indeed.

***

  1. ** RAY**

Ray’s guts roiled with a sense of dread at the thought of writing up the report for this case. This was a career-killer for sure, because no one would ever believe the truth. What the hell was he supposed to say about glowing animals, an undead secret agent, alien machines, a missing astronomer — and nothing to show for it except maybe a shell casing or two, which — oh, right — Jack had stolen? 

Hell, there wasn’t even a crime scene, not really. Not anymore, thanks to Jack’s cleanup efforts. They had no meteorite, no perp, no weapon, not even a body — which was a good thing of course, but it left them with a thousand questions and no way to answer them that wouldn’t get them all fired, court-martialed, imprisoned, committed, or worse.

Maybe they could “accidentally” drop the files behind the back of a cabinet, or lose them in the archives, or “forget” to fill them out, something. Like Jack said, pretend it was a cold case and let it all fade away. Or maybe they could assume new identities and hightail it to Mexico. That would probably be easier.

On top of that, Ray was gonna have nightmares for months. He really hoped Fraser’s dreamcatcher actually worked, because he sure as hell was going to need it. That is, if they didn’t all end up in prison.

And then there was the kiss. Which Ray was either going to have to ignore completely, or think long and hard about what that meant, and no, the double entendre was not lost on him, thank you very much. That kiss was a can of worms the size of Lake Michigan, and he couldn’t think about that right now. One thing at a time.

“There’s no point in sticking around,” Jack said.

“I could really use a stiff one.” Ray rubbed his forehead. His brain felt fried and his body ached with exhaustion. 

“A stiff what?” Jack smirked.

Ray laughed. Out loud. Laughter filled his chest and throat, fizzing and bubbling through him like a shaken-up bottle of pop, until it burst out of him and filled the room. And he kept on laughing, wave after wave cresting through him until his stomach hurt and tears filled his eyes. Really, there was nothing left to do now  _ but _ laugh. Either that, or lose what little was left of his grip on reality. 

“A  _ drink _ , Jack. A stiff  _ drink _ ,” Ray said, catching his breath and wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“I’m buying,” Jack said, grinning. “I insist. It’s the least I can do.” A sad little smile crossed his face. The wind seemed to have gone out of his sails. Ray guessed he really wasn’t looking forward to going home and facing the music. Might as well all go get a drink. Last requests of dying men before facing the firing squad...

“You saved Ray’s life, Jack,” Fraser said, a dazzling, genuine smile gracing his own lips. “Of course we’ll join you.” 

Dief barked and wagged his tail, prancing happily back and forth between them.

Fraser helped Ray stand up, and together they headed for the exit. 

***

Jack asked to go back to his hotel room so he could change into clean clothes, and nobody objected. It only seemed fair, given that Ray owed the guy his life and all. Fraser even opened the car door for Jack, and Jack let him.

When they got to the hotel they had to make excuses for Diefenbaker, but the staff accepted Ray’s explanation of police dog and eventually let him in. As soon as they entered Jack’s suite, Dief made a circuit of the room and claimed a spot under the table.

Jack ordered a feast from room service: pizza with pineapple for Ray, a massive chicken salad for Fraser, cupcakes with the little silver balls on top for Jack, and a bottle of Scotch, because everyone needs a stiff one sometimes. 

It was ironic. Ray had thought that life with Fraser was bizarre, but in less than twenty-four hours the Mountie had started to seem normal compared to Jack. The universe made even less sense today than yesterday — which Ray hadn’t thought was possible.

So here they were, sitting around a tiny hotel room table, having a drink, eating pizza and salad and cupcakes, flirting with a guy who apparently couldn’t die, talking about aliens. The whole thing was surreal, like some kind of seriously bad acid trip.

“I love this planet,” Jack said, moaning with pleasure as he licked chocolate frosting off a cupcake. “You can’t get this stuff on Alpha Centauri. Besides, sex burns 300 calories an hour.” He winked at Ray. “Got to keep my strength up with you two around.”

“You never give up, do you?” Ray ate a bite of pizza. He tossed the rest to Diefenbaker, who caught it, then bent down to gnaw on it, making happy crunching sounds under the table.

Jack grinned. “You’re just now figuring that out? Tell you what,” Jack leaned forward and lowered his eyebrows. “I’ll make you a deal. How about I give you one kiss, and if you don’t like it you can return it?”

Ray smiled in spite of himself. 

Fraser sat quietly studying Jack.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Jack asked, handing Fraser a glass of Scotch.

“How old are you, if I may ask, Jack?”

“Ohh, that’s a bit impertinent, isn’t it? I like it.” Jack smiled at Fraser, who smiled back. “Why do you ask?”

Fraser swirled the Scotch in his glass but didn’t drink it. “If that truly is you in the World War Two photograph, I am curious what the implications are.”

Jack took a bite of cupcake. “It’s very, very complicated. In Earth years I’m thirty-eight, maybe thirty-nine. I think. I just kind of … got stuck there for a bit.”

“You mean you’re not as old as the universe?” Ray asked, gobbling another piece of pizza.

“Well I wasn’t around for the Big Bang,” Jack smirked, “at least not the one you’re thinking of…”

“You have the dirtiest mind of anyone I’ve ever met,” Ray said, crumpling up a grease-soaked napkin and tossing it in the pizza box.

“Thank you. I do my best. Here,” Jack offered Ray a cupcake, “dessert’s the best part of the meal.”

Ray reached for the cake but his hand slipped, and a bit of frosting smeared the inside of his wrist. 

“I’ll get it,” Jack said, and before Ray could react, he’d grabbed Ray’s hand, flipped it over and sucked the frosting right off, finishing with a flourish of hot wet, tongue.

It sent a shiver down Ray’s spine, all the way to the bottoms of his feet. Damn. He had no idea that having his wrists licked was a turn-on. He jerked his hand back and locked eyes with Jack, who was staring at him with a heated gaze. 

Jack smiled, then offered a cupcake to Fraser, who refused. Instead he stared intently at Ray, then back at Jack, the gears in his mind turning in who knew what directions.

As tempting as Jack’s offer might be, things were way too complicated for that to work out. Ray barely knew where he stood with Fraser, or Fraser’s designs on Jack, or anything.

“Sorry, Jack,” Ray said, not looking at Fraser.

“Ah well, I tried.”

“You certainly did,” Fraser agreed. A small smile curled his lips, tongue touching the corner of his mouth. 

“Believe it or not,” Jack said, nursing his drink, “I get it. I had a partner once. His name was John. He broke my heart. You two, don’t do that. Be good to each other.” 

Ray looked at Fraser, who was watching him, his expression inscrutable. In a sudden rush of daring, Ray grinned at Fraser. “I will if you will.”

Fraser nodded once. “Always, Ray.”

A wave of heat flooded through Ray’s chest, and it wasn’t from the booze. Some new understanding had passed between them — one of shared acknowledgement and possibility. Fraser knew. He knew how Ray felt about him. And he hadn’t run away, hadn’t balked. And if that kiss in the boiler room meant anything, Fraser felt the same way. 

Ray’s mind reeled with the implications. It was all too much. He took a long sip of Scotch, tasting the smoky peat flavor, feeling the familiar burn as it worked it’s way down his throat — that, at least, was something grounding, something he knew. Except…. it had a kind of funny aftertaste… 

“Who are you, Jack, really?” Fraser asked, sniffing his Scotch before taking a tiny sip and frowning at it.

“Nobody. I was never here. It’s been fun.” He toasted them with the last of his own drink, tossed it down with a final wince, set his glass down, and sat back in his chair, like he was waiting for something.

“A word of advice before I go — ” Jack said.

Fraser yawned. He rubbed his eyes, set his glass down, and leaned heavily against the couch, listening. 

“In the words of Frank McCloud,” Jack began, “‘ When your head says one thing and your whole life says another, your head always loses.’"

Fraser nodded. “That’s quite profound, Captain. It reminds me of an Inuit story...” he mumbled, and dozed off. 

At the same moment, Ray’s vision went all swimmy and he was overwhelmed by a wave of exhaustion. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table and his head on his forearms. He just needed a second to rest. The last thing Ray remembered before falling asleep was Jack’s dazzling blue eyes watching him.

“I’m sorry too,” Jack said, and Ray blacked out.

***

  1. ** JACK**

After Ray and Fraser had fallen asleep under the influence of Jack’s special-recipe Retcon, he spent a busy night cleaning up the mess. 

Jack borrowed Ray’s car, taking extra care to remove any signs that he was ever there. He even topped off the petrol tank when he was finished. 

At the museum and planetarium, Jack took advantage of the destroyed CCTV cameras and a couple of dozing security guards, picked a few locks, and snuck in. He slipped the duplicate fake meteorite into its case, and placed a printed sign in the Antikythera display that read “ARTIFACT REMOVED FOR RESTORATION.” Then he left a note on the Director’s desk from Doctor Langstrom saying that she had taken a leave of absence due to a family emergency. 

Next, Jack typed out a copy of Ray’s police report as blandly as possible, leaving only the signature line blank, and rested it atop the files stashed in Ray’s trunk. He made quick work of the VCR tape with a single shot from his blaster.

He paid for the hotel room and the room service, which happened to be in the name of John Doe, leaving generous tips for all the service workers. 

As a gift for his new friends who wouldn’t even remember him, Jack left them the best present he could think of: each other.

Fraser was heavier than Ray, but Jack managed to get them into bed side by side, undressed to their skivvies. He pulled the blankets over them, blew each of them a kiss, and left them sleeping peacefully.

He set a bowl of water and a doughnut on a plate by Diefenbaker’s head and patted the wolf gently. Dief grumbled in his sleep and pawed the air, chasing invisible doggie dreams. Finally, Jack left, suitcase in hand, and quietly locked the door behind him.

His last act was to catch a red-eye back to London to resume his long slow slog towards the Doctor, and, if all went well, to redemption and freedom. 

As he eased the seat back in the plane, he closed his eyes, lost in thought, running the events of the last two days over in his mind. It was a stubborn thing, life. It kept on going, even when it seemed impossible. Like weeds in the cracks of a shattered concrete pavement. Life returned. Life prevailed. As did, miraculously, and in the face of the vast existential nothingness of the universe, love. So… guess that made Jack one hell of a weed. 

He had a lot to make up for, to live up to the new and higher standard the Doctor had set, to become worthy of his return. Personal growth sucked, but it was the only way forward.

***

  1. ** RAY**

Mmmm. Ray didn’t remember bringing anybody home last night, but whoever it was sure smelled nice. Warm, too, their arms and legs tangled with his own in the comforting heat of skin against skin. His eyes still shut with sleep, Ray leaned forward an inch and kissed his partner. The soft lips parted and kissed back, accompanied by a slick, warm tongue-tip and a moan. A low, masculine moan.

Ray’s eyes flew open. Storm-blue eyes stared back at him, pupils blown wide. 

Fraser.

Ray jerked backwards, nearly throwing himself off the bed. _Holy_ _fuck_! How had he ended up here, with Fraser in his bed, and _oh my god_ they had just kissed and that was never supposed to happen. But it had, and it was way, way too good and _holy shit_ what now?

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” Ray blurted, feeling suddenly very cold and exposed. Glancing down at himself, he realized with horror that he was wearing only his white briefs with the red candy stripes, and one sock on his left foot.

Fraser blushed furiously. “Um. Ah. Er…”

“Where the hell are we?” Ray sat up and looked around the room. A hotel room. His head ached and spun as he searched for his clothes. They were strewn on the floor and over a nearby chair, his holster resting on top of the pile. The throbbing sensation in Ray’s forehead intensified. “What happened?”

Fraser propped himself on his elbows and looked at Ray, then scanned the room, noting the bottle of Scotch, a pile of cupcake wrappers, and an open pizza box on the table.

“Evidence would suggest that we were celebrating something.” He spotted a newspaper beside the pizza box. “Missing Meteorite Recovered!” the headline blared. “Apparently we solved the meteorite case, though I’m having trouble recalling the details, or why we would choose to celebrate in this manner.”

Ray massaged his scalp, trying to get the ache to subside. “Must’ve been one hell of a party. I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck.”

Fraser rubbed his eyes with a palm. “As do I.”

But Fraser didn’t look bad at all — in fact, his face looked relaxed, flushed with a healthy glow, younger even — like he’d had a very satisfying night’s sleep. 

Ray wondered if Fraser could be bluffing, to protect him from embarrassment over whatever the hell had happened last night.

“But Fraser, you don’t drink.”

“Perhaps I made an exception.” 

And perhaps you didn’t. But Fraser was sticking to his story, and there wasn’t much Ray could do in the face of Fraser’s stubbornness, so he stopped pushing. 

Problem was, when Ray quit asking questions he started noticing things. The first thing he noticed was Fraser being buck naked except for starched white boxers. The next thing he noticed was— oh god — a tree branch’s worth of morning wood tenting those boxers. The third thing was Fraser blushing beet red all the way down to his elastic waistband, because the fourth thing was Ray staring. Staring and thinking things he really, really shouldn’t.

He forced himself to look at Fraser’s face, but that didn’t help. Because now he was noticing the sprinkle of dark stubble on that perfect square jaw, trailing across his cheeks and up into his hair. And oh, that hair. It was a mess of dark waves, all ruffled and gorgeous and so very, very human and vulnerable that it made Ray’s heart ache with fierce longing. 

Ray swallowed. His tongue felt thick and sticky, and his mouth felt like he’d eaten a bottle of pill cotton mixed with vinegar. Ugh. Whatever combo of mind-altering chemicals he’d gotten into last night, it was nasty. 

“God, I’m thirsty. Are you thirsty?” 

Fraser climbed out of bed, went to the bathroom sink, and filled two glasses with water. Ray tried not to look. Much. It’s just that there was all that skin on display, moving and rippling over Fraser’s taut toned muscles…

Fraser handed Ray a glass and he downed the water in three gulps, considering the situation. But there wasn’t enough information — his memory was well and truly blank. And damn it, he really needed to know. 

“Did we… did anything happen?” Ray asked. 

“I couldn't say.”

“Couldn’t say, or won’t say?”

“Can’t,” Fraser replied, reaching for his pants and pulling them on. 

Ray shook his head. “Me neither. I really don’t remember a thing.”

“Too bad,” Fraser said, a tiny smile curling one side of his mouth.

“Why’s that?”

Fraser’s tongue flickered across his bottom lip. “Because you’re an exceptional kisser.”

It was Ray’s turn to blush.”Are you saying we made out?” He couldn’t believe it. 

“Not as such. But,” he ran a finger over his mouth, “You know, just now. I mean.”

Ray thought about that, studying Fraser’s face. 

“So, let me get this straight— you liked that? With me?”

Fraser nodded. “Yes.”

“Was that… was that hard to say?”

“Ray,” Fraser said softly, “I wouldn’t lie to you about such a thing. I… I quite enjoyed it,” he said, his pupils dilating for a fraction of a second.

Ray’s stomach did a backflip with a double half-twist. “Yeah… me too.” 

And he wanted to do it again — that, and so much more. But that was a bad idea. All of this was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad idea. He rubbed his temples again, trying but utterly failing to remember if kissing Fraser was a new thing, or if right now was the proverbial morning after, and … nothing. Only static where the memories were supposed to be.

“I suppose…” Fraser began… “we should get ourselves home.”

“What about work?”

“It’s Saturday.”

Ray looked at his watch. Sure enough. He could have sworn today was Friday. 

“Uh, ok,” Ray said, reaching for his pants. But then he stopped himself. Pretending nothing had happened, that nothing was going on, was plain stupid. If he let this — whatever this was — go, it was going to fester between them, and that was the last thing they needed. “You really don’t remember a thing about last night, Frase? Because that’s not like you.”

Fraser paused. “Are you certain  _ you _ don’t remember anything? Anything at all?”

“No.” 

Fraser nodded once, as if that confirmed a suspicion. “Very well then.” He picked up his Henley and continued dressing, gone into Mountie mode, the friendly, flirting, kissing Fraser tucked neatly away like a pair of starched boxers in a drawer.

The shift in tone felt like a kick in the gut. Fraser had shut him down, and god, it hurt. And on top of that, he was covering something up — Ray was sure of it. He sighed and scratched a hand over his chin, feeling the stubble there. The prickly sensation made him wonder if it had hurt Fraser when they’d kissed — he hoped it hadn’t. 

This was ridiculous. They had kissed and maybe more, and Fraser wasn’t talking about it. Which was wrong. Partners meant sharing.

“So…” Ray couldn’t believe he was about to do this, but it had to be done. He’d never forgive himself if he didn’t ask. “Does this mean you might want to do it again?”

Fraser froze, set his tunic down and searched Ray’s face. “Do what, exactly?”

Ray bit his lip. “Kiss me.”

“Yes, Ray. Very much so,” he said, stroking the side of his thumb over his eyebrow, “if you’ll have me.”

Ray’s chest filled with warmth, like that feeling on Christmas morning when he was twelve and finally got the red bicycle he’d been begging for.

“Are you kidding? It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” 

The combination of shock and pure lust in Fraser’s eyes at hearing those words was worth everything. Ray had rolled the dice and come up double sixes, all the way. He pinched himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

“In all honesty I’ve wanted to do that for quite awhile now,” Fraser said, and took a step towards Ray. “But it never seemed the right time to act on those… desires.”

Ray’s heart thudded in his chest, and a wave of heat shot down his spine and straight to his dick. 

He broke into a huge grin. “You and me both.” Ray looked at his watch. “Checkout’s not until eleven. That gives us a couple hours.”

Fraser smiled back, and took another step towards Ray. In touching distance, now. “It appears we have some time to kill. Whatever shall we do with ourselves?”

“I can think of a few things.” Ray raised a hand and crooked a finger at Fraser. “Come here.”

And he did.

***

  1. ** NARRATOR**

Nearly thirty-six hours of their memories were missing. The police files and reports only revealed what they already knew: the stolen meteorite had mysteriously reappeared back in its display case, end of story. A big fat waste of everyone’s time.

Over the following week, life went on in its usual-unusual way, except that Ray had a new after-hours hobby named Fraser. 

A copycat club — The Extreme Knitting and Skateboarding Club this time — briefly reared its head, but was quickly disbanded. The leader had a nasty accident grinding on a bridge railing while trying to knit a pair of Fair Isle socks, which kind of put a damper on the whole idea.

Diefenbaker kept trying to tell Fraser about a man from far away who gave him doughnuts, a bird-deer that glowed, and the funny cigarettes in the planetarium trash can. When neither Fraser or Ray took him seriously, Dief eventually gave up, writing it off to human stupidity.

Fraser nearly sought out a pet psychologist. 

Dawn Langstrom, PhD, Astrophysics, showed up on her mother’s doorstep in Sydney, Australia, in the middle of a sleepy Sunday afternoon. She was dazed, confused about how she had gotten there, and suffered from short-term memory loss, but a medical checkup revealed nothing especially worrisome. The strangest, most vivid nightmares haunted her dreams for years after she returned to her job at the planetarium. For the rest of her life, she had a sneaking suspicion that she’d forgotten something important, but never did figure it out. To this day you can find her at her telescope, searching the stars.

Jack lived to be billions of years old. He loved and lost, redeemed himself a million times over, and had many adventures which are still being chronicled. He eventually got around to sleeping with everyone; if he hasn’t gotten to you yet, he will.

Ray forgot all about the meteorite incident, but in the end he discovered the finest truth of all: that wherever he went, as long as he and Fraser had each other, they were home.

The End.

***

  1. ** FRASER (Epilogue)**

There was a knock on the cabin door. Fraser turned off the propane burner and set the wooden spoon down, resting it on a plate next to the stove. He’d been cooking a big pot of ground-caribou spaghetti sauce, and the scents of garlic, tomatoes, basil and oregano filled the cabin. He strode across the room in a few quick steps, his boots thudding on the wooden floor. He twisted the wrought-iron handle and pulled open the door. 

The face that greeted him had hardly aged a day.

“Hi Jack,” Fraser said.

Jack looked surprised for a second, then broke into a grin. 

“Hi Benton. I was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d stop by and check up on you guys.”

“Come in. I’ve been expecting you.” 

“Have you indeed?” Jack cocked his head, studying Fraser’s face, then nodded once in understanding.

Fraser stepped back, and ushered Jack inside. 

Jack sniffed the air. “Something smells fantastic.”

“You’re welcome to stay for dinner.”

“Thanks. I will,” he said, taking off his greatcoat.

Fraser took Jack’s coat and hung it from a wooden peg on the wall, noting the barely visible repair in the front. Jack had a good tailor. 

“Make yourself at home. I’ll be back in two shakes of a husky’s tail.” Fraser reached for his own jacket and slipped it on. He turned to go outside, but paused in the doorway, Stetson in hand. “There’s something I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time, but had no idea how to reach you.”

“I can be hard to find. Sorry about that,” Jack shrugged apologetically. “What is it?”

“Thank you. For everything.”

“Anything for a friend,” Jack said, tapping his forehead in a small salute and smiling.

Fraser put his hat on and touched the brim in reply, then skipped down the wooden porch steps and onto the gravel path that led away from the cabin.

Jack watched as Fraser headed towards a large outbuilding, from which the howls and yips of excited dogs curled into the early autumn air.

“Ray!” Fraser called out. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Don't Stop Me Now" by Queen/Freddie Mercury
> 
> I’m burnin’ through the sky, yeah  
Two hundred degrees  
That's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit  
I'm traveling at the speed of light  
I wanna make a supersonic man out of you
> 
> *Quote by Frank McCloud, as played by Humphrey Bogart, Key Largo, 1948.
> 
> **Star Trek is canon in the Doctor Who universe and vice-versa, most notably in the licensed crossover comic Assimilation 2, 2012, but cross-references and homages have been around since the beginning. One of the oldest shared references is the planet Vulcan (ST TOS and Second Doctor episode “The Power of the Daleks”). Jack enjoys Raktajino whenever he visits Deep Space Nine.
> 
> ***The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (Douglas Adams) is canon in the Doctor Who universe and vice-versa, which is not surprising given that Adams wrote for both series. Aldebaran liqueurs were served at Milliways (The Restaurant at the End of the Universe); Aldebaran brandy appeared in Doctor Who in “The Husbands of River Song” and “Twice Upon a Time”. Aldebaran whisky appeared in the Star Trek TNG episode “Relics”. Jack only enjoys Pan Galactic Gargle Blasters (which the Guide describes as "having your brains smashed out by a slice of lemon wrapped around a large gold brick") when he has nothing planned for the next week.


End file.
